


The Accidental Wife

by shadowsamurai



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Original Character(s), Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a new case, Holmes finds himself in need of assistance which Watson cannot provide, forcing him to ask a favour of someone he really shouldn't ask. Follow up to 'You Touched My Heart'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoilers for 'The Master Blackmailer' (TV episode). Mostly a character-driven story. Aggie's surname was used courtesy of an author on FFN.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

*"This is intolerable!"* Holmes declared loudly.

Watson sighed and risked a peek over the top of his newspaper. Holmes was pacing frantically, waving a piece of paper around like a revolver, and the good doctor quickly disappeared again. He knew it would do no good to ask what the problem was; Holmes wouldn't hear him anyway.

"Another. Another!"

Finally, Watson gave in. In a show of frustration, he folded the newspaper and set it down beside him. "Another what?"

"This, Watson!" Holmes waved the paper so close to Watson's face, he was in danger of giving the poor doctor a paper cut on his nose. "It simply will not do."

With surprisingly quick reflexes, Watson snatched the paper from his friend. "Another jewel theft? Wealthy couple, recently married…same as before? What does that mean?"

"Watson, my dear friend, sometimes your lack of intelligence astounds me!" Holmes exclaimed. "It of course means that this is not the first theft."

"I know that, Holmes," Watson retorted irritably, handing the paper back. "But this is the first I've heard of it."

Holmes stared at the doctor warily. "Surely I must have mentioned it to you before?"

"No."

"This plate has been here for five days, did you notice? *Mrs Hudson!"* he bellowed.

Watson frowned at the loudness of his friend's voice. "For pity's sake, Holmes. Now, are you going to tell me what this is about or should I simply guess?"

"Oh, please, don't do that," Holmes begged him. "I don't think my brain could stand the pain."

"Holmes, you really are too much sometimes!" Watson stood and went over to the mantle to light a cigarette, his back turned firmly on Holmes.

"Yes, Mr Holmes, what is it?" Mrs Hudson asked in a long-suffering tone as she entered the room.

Holmes stared at her. "Mrs Hudson, you're in the way."

"Well if I am it's because you sent for me," she replied tartly.

"I don't recall anything of the sort. Goodbye, Mrs Hudson!" Holmes waved her away.

She looked at Watson, who just shrugged and offered an apologetic smile. The landlady shook her head and slammed the door as she stomped down the stairs muttering to herself. Out of the corner of his eye, Watson was certain that Holmes was counting.

"Have you been asked to investigate these robberies, Holmes?" the doctor asked, drawing the detective's attention away from whatever mischief he had been planning.

"Not in as many words, no, but the last three couples of victims have all approached me with their concerns, and the mystery is most appealing to me, so I think I shall lend my skills to the situation. There is, however, one slight problem."

Watson raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I need a wife," Holmes replied, glancing at his companion.

"Don't look at me, old man."

Holmes' lips quirked upwards quickly in amusement before his expression returned to its solemn norm. "No, Watson, that would hardly do, though I have no doubts you would attempt your level best in such a role."

Watson fixed Holmes with a firm stare. "No."

"You need not worry yourself, Doctor, I already have someone in mind."

"Mrs Hudson?" Watson suggested.

"HA!"

"Then I am at a loss." The doctor shook his head. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

*"Mrs Hudson!"* Holmes shouted loudly.

"Yes, Mr Holmes?" Mrs Hudson replied once she had reached the top of the stairs for the second time. Her tone was one that meant if she was about to be rudely dismissed again, Holmes would find himself dining on boiled cabbage alone for a month.

Holmes flashed her his most charming smile, which bounced off her in the same way water slides off a duck's back. "I wonder how well equipped you are to help transform a young lady into a beautiful butterfly. Or should I say, more accurately, bring out the butterfly that must be lurking in the young woman."

Mrs Hudson narrowed her eyes at him. "Have you been drinking already?"

"Pshaw! What a thing to suggest! No, my dear woman, I simply need your…assistance in a small matter."

"Who is this young lady, Holmes?" Watson asked, frowning. "You don't have an acquaintance who meets those requirements, unless there's something you haven't told me."

"Do not concern yourself over the details, Doctor," Holmes replied.

"No, I think I will." Watson's frown deepened, his face looking even more lined than normal.

Holmes simply ignored him. "Mrs Hudson?" he prompted the landlady, reminding her he still needed an answer to his earlier request.

She sighed. It was a sound she had down to a fine art. "Alright, Mr Holmes," she surrendered.  
"Excellent! And now I must go out. I think it would be best if I actually asked the young lady in question whether she would be willing to help or not." A brief look of consternation ghosted over the detective's face. "After our recent…encounter, she may be less than receptive to the idea."

But before he could escape the room, Watson turned, aghast. "Holmes! You can't be serious!"

"Perfectly, my dear fellow. Shan't be long!" Holmes waved and quickly descended the stairs.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" Mrs Hudson asked, concerned.

Watson sighed in a fair imitation of the long-suffering landlady, and shook his head. "Don't ask, Mrs Hudson. Just…don't ask."

TBC


	2. The Condition

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Holmes paused at the gate, wondering whether he really was doing the right thing or not. But he needed to solve the case and she was the only one he knew who could possibly help him. The least he had to do was try; the thought of being stuck with Watson as a wife was all the incentive Holmes needed to push the gate open and sneak down the path.

"Aggie," he called in a quiet voice when he neared the kitchen and spotted his quarry.

Aggie turned, surprised. "Mr Holmes! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I would like to talk to you, if I may."

She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Just five minutes, before the cook gets back." She undid her apron and quickly made her way outside, stopping just short of grabbing Holmes' arm.

"How are you finding your new employment?" Holmes asked politely as they started to stroll through the garden, away from the house.

"Oh, it's alright. Better than the last place, that's for sure," Aggie replied. "The mistress is nice enough, but Cook can be a nightmare sometimes." She glanced at him coyly. "So what brings you here, Mr Holmes?"

Holmes smiled softly at the young woman by his side. It was a genuine smile, not the quick flashes he offered the rest of the world. He was well aware of the hurt he had caused Aggie by his actions, and while she had forgiven him, it was obvious she still had a soft spot for the plumber named Escott, and so by extension, she was fond of Holmes too.

"I'm aware I am in no position to ask anything of you, Aggie, especially after the way I treated you…."

She put a hand on his arm. "Now you stop that. I told you once it was over and done with. I don't like repeating myself."

"Quite," Holmes replied, smiling once more. "Well, then, I have a favour to ask."

"Ask away, Mr Holmes."

"I need your help with a case. It would require…." He paused. "It would require you to be my wife."

Aggie stopped dead in her tracks. "That's a cruel thing to ask, and here was me thinking you was a gentleman!"

"I would not have asked if it wasn't vitally important," Holmes implored her. "And…I have no one else to turn to." His admission was painful, like trying to chew on boulders, but he sensed the only way to regain Aggie's trust was to be truthful with her.

"How would that work, then?" she asked, starting walking once more. "Would you be Escott again?" Her tone was hopeful.

But Holmes shook his head. "Rather you would be a true lady by title, and we would be one of the wealthiest couples in London."

Aggie laughed, then looked away shyly. "Could you really do that with a lump like me, Mr Holmes?" she asked quietly. "Turn me into a lady, I mean. A proper lady, like."

For once, Holmes was grateful to Watson's almost hazardous preoccupation with the opposite sex, and his endless flirting as it gave the great detective a basis to work from. "My dear Aggie, it would simply be like wiping the dust from a beautiful painting."

Aggie giggled and blushed bright red. "Oh, you." They walked in silence for a while, Holmes unconsciously, and uncharacteristically, holding his breath. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Thank you, Aggie," he said sincerely.

"But there's a condition."

"Which is?"

Aggie faced him, her expression serious. "I don't want some make believe person to be married to. I wouldn't mind you being Escott, but you're not. You're Sherlock Holmes, and that's the man I want to know."

To Holmes, she might as well have asked for the moon. Only one person on the planet knew Holmes remotely well, and that was his faithful Boswell. Mrs Hudson had an inkling, which was more than Mycroft possessed, but no one knew the detective completely. And he preferred it that way. He always believed that the way to make a character believable was for the actor to put a piece of himself, whether large or small, into the performance. With Escott, Holmes had allowed his shyness and insecurity to shine through, traits that were normally hidden under layers of brilliance, brashness and detective work. What Aggie was asking went against every self-preservation instinct Holmes had built into his personality; her request was completely against the grain of his character. And yet he needed her help. There was no other way to solve the case, because he had tried. This was his only option, and so he had no choice but to agree, but he did so hesitantly.

"Aggie, I…."

Aggie suddenly pressed a finger to his lips briefly. She had been watching his expression closely and seen glimpses of the Escott she had fallen for peek through. It suddenly occurred to her that there was more substance to the character of the plumber than she first thought.

"Just…promise me you'll at least try, alright?" she asked quietly.

"I will try," Holmes promised sincerely. "Now, we must see about you taking some leave from your employment. Is your mistress home?"

Aggie nodded. "How are you going to fiddle a holiday for me?"

Holmes smiled. "If I'm not very much mistaken, simply telling your employer the truth will suffice. It will then be up to her to make up a story to tell the rest of her staff." He suddenly put his finger to his lips in his usual jerky, thoughtful fashion. "But I must have your assurance that you will not mention any of this to *anyone*."

"Who am I going to tell, Mr Holmes?" Aggie asked in surprise.

"Mr Stokes, perhaps…."

She laughed loudly. "Robert and me aren't talking, and I'll be happy if I never see him again. Caught him fooling around with one of the maids here, I did," she said a little sadly. "Told me he was sorry, but I didn't believe him. Sent him away with a flea in his ear." Aggie sighed. "Last I heard, him and the maid was getting married. They left here not long ago."

"My condolences," Holmes replied, and he meant it. Then he offered her the crook of his arm and turned back towards the house. "Now, is your mistress at home?"

"She is, sir."

"Good. If you would be so kind as to introduce us, I will take care of obtaining leave for you while you pack a few things."

"Will I be gone long?" Aggie asked.

"That is an excellent question." He turned to her, his expression kind. "Don't trouble yourself over anything, Aggie. Just pick up the essentials you need and I shall take care of the rest for you."

"I should be careful if I was you, Mr Holmes," Aggie said to him. "I might just decide I like being pretend married to you and not let go after all this is done with."

TBC


	3. Second Thoughts

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Aggie's employer turned out to be a most amiable and understanding mistress. Lady Celia Murdoch had heard of Mr Sherlock Holmes, and being a wealthy person herself, completely understood the need to solve the case. As she pointed out to him, she identified truly with the victims as she could easily be one herself, if not for the fact she was a widow. The jewel thieves, it seemed, preferred the challenge of a couple rather than a single person.

"How long will you be requiring Aggie, Mr Holmes?" Lady Murdoch asked.

"I cannot say, madam. Will her absence cause you a problem?"

"Not at all."

"I will recompense her for any loss of earnings," Holmes said.

Lady Murdoch smiled and shook her head. "That won't be necessary. You needn't tell her this, but I'm actually quite fond of Aggie. She is so very full of life that she is a joy to be around…most of the time." She sighed. "One almost forgets that one was once the same age."

Holmes smiled back politely and agreed, but inwardly he was thinking he had never been that age; he couldn't remember being young at all. It seemed like he had always been mature…old, even. Lady Murdoch had been watching the detective with interest, and she wondered if he was aware how much information his eyes were giving away as he lost himself for a moment in his thoughts. It was only the briefest of glimpses into the man behind the mask, but Lady Murdoch was certain there was far more to Sherlock Holmes than met the eye. And she would be willing to make an assumption that Aggie had somehow touched that secret part of his character, though whether Holmes knew it or not was a different matter.

"I must ask you not to say anything about this to anyone," Holmes said, though even as the words left his mouth, he felt them unnecessary.

But Lady Murdoch simply smiled politely and nodded. "Do not worry yourself, Mr Holmes, my lips are sealed. I shall invent some excuse for Aggie's absence that will keep the other servants happy, and make it very clear that further questions over the matter will not be tolerated."

"Thank you, madam."

"Well, Mr Holmes, I imagine you are a very busy man, so I shall bid you farewell," Lady Murdoch said, rising to her feet. Holmes followed suit and they shook hands. "If there is any further assistance I can offer, please do not hesitate to let me know."

"I shall indeed, Lady Murdoch," Holmes replied with a quick smile. "Thank you for your time, and good day to you."

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Aggie had been enthusiastic when she first left the house, but now, outside 221B Baker Street, she suddenly found herself nervous, a fact that had gone completely unnoticed by her companion. But even Sherlock Holmes could only remain oblivious for so long; when he realised he was alone on the pavement, he was forced to turn his attention back to the carriage.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

But Aggie remained wide-eyed, almost terrified. "I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, I can't do this."

Holmes was about to issue a sharp rebuke, but he caught himself at the last minute. If he was going to pull off a convincing act of being married, he needed to get himself into character straight away. But at the back of his mind were Aggie's words about wanting to know the real Holmes. Suddenly, Aggie wasn't the only one who was thinking the whole idea was a bad idea.

"There is nothing to fear, Aggie," Holmes said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. It didn't seem to work, though.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Holmes."

Holmes sighed and climbed back into the carriage. "This is something different for both of us, and I am as uncomfortable about the situation as you, but these thieves need to be caught, and I cannot do that alone." Tentatively, as one may take hold of a poisonous snake, Holmes picked up one of Aggie's hands. "I need your help, and I would not have asked if I thought you were not up to the task."

"And you had no one else to ask," Aggie replied, a shrewd observation that startled Holmes. He quickly reassessed his opinion of the maid's character.

"There is also that," he said honestly.

Then Aggie smiled. "Thank you, Mr Holmes, for not lying."

"It may be best to try and remember to call me Sherlock," Holmes told her, trying unsuccessfully to keep his expression neutral. "I freely admit I am not overly fond of that name…."

"You didn't have to say anything, Mr Holmes," Aggie said, stifling a giggle. "Your face spoke for you."

Holmes looked irked. "Yes. Well." He climbed out of the carriage once more and extended his hand. "Shall we?"

Aggie lifted her chin a little and allowed Holmes to help her out of the carriage. "Let us."

TBC


	4. Triumphant Return

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Watson had been stood at the window almost since Holmes had left. He was almost certain Aggie was the woman his friend had gone to beseech help from, and he would have loved to have overheard the conversation. Holmes was not the most persuasive of men, though Watson knew he could be tactful, caring, and charming when the occasion called for it, and so the good doctor wondered how well Holmes' campaign to get Aggie to help him had gone. Watson also wondered how long the detective could keep up the pretence of being a happily married man; the thought alone made the doctor chortle to himself.

"I think your feet are nailed to the floor, Doctor," Mrs Hudson stated dryly as she came into the room.

Watson turned, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Would you care to place a wager, Mrs Hudson?"

She immediately looked suspicious. "What kind of wager?"

"How long do you think Holmes will be able to pretend he's married?"

Mrs Hudson laughed. "Oh, I see. Well, what do you think, Doctor?"

"I don't think Aggie will even agree to help him in the first place," Watson said. "And I'll put a shilling on that."

"A little miserly, Dr Watson," Mrs Hudson stated.

Watson raised his eyebrows. "Can you afford more?"

"Alright. A shilling says this lady *does* come back with Mr Holmes," Mrs Hudson replied. "And then we can up the stakes later."

"*If* you win," Watson said.

Mrs Hudson looked superiorly smug. "Oh, I have every confidence in Mr Holmes' charm."

He frowned, suspicious. "And how do you know that?"

"Elementary, my dear Dr Watson," Mrs Hudson replied. "Elementary." And with that, she left the room, glad that the doctor didn't have Holmes' powers of deduction; if he had, he would have noticed the telegram from Holmes in the pocket of Mrs Hudson's apron.

She didn't actually believe Watson when he told her where Holmes had gone to; it was one of those 'must be seen to believe' situations, and even if she saw the spectacle with her own two eyes, it would still be difficult to accept. Holmes posing as a married man. Mrs Hudson chuckled to herself and shook her head. It would be interesting, to say the very least. But if she played the game correctly, perhaps even imposing on Holmes and young Aggie to help, she could win quite a bit of money from Watson. At least that would put *one* of her difficult tenants in his place. The assumption of people always amused Mrs Hudson; everyone assumed it was Holmes who was the difficult tenant and that Watson was as long-suffering as the landlady, and while this was true to a certain extent, it certainly wasn't the whole story. Watson could be as waspish, awkward and childish as Holmes, if not worse. If only people knew….

"Oh, enough chitter chatter," Mrs Hudson scolded herself quietly as she emptied the tea tray. Then she heard the familiar step of her most awkward tenant as he entered the hall, and with a suppressed smug smile, she left the kitchen to greet him.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Upstairs, Watson had been silently congratulating himself on earning a shilling. A small amount, perhaps, but it was still a shilling more than he had five minutes ago. Some might have considered it unsporting of him to bet against his friend in such a fashion, but Watson knew Holmes and the chances of him succeeding were….

"Ah, there he is," Watson muttered to himself as he saw a carriage pull up and Holmes stepped out. Alone. "I knew it." He was just about to embark on a well-deserved journey of self-congratulation when Holmes stopped, turned back to the carriage, and then climbed back in. "What on earth…?"

Holmes disappeared for a good few moments, during which Watson lit up a cigarette thoughtfully. Had Aggie rejected him, and had Holmes, being the man he was, waited until he got home before deciding to try again? Had something else happened? Try as he might, Watson just could not work out why his friend was behaving so oddly. Then Holmes exited the carriage once again and held his hand out for….

"Well I'll be…." Watson trailed off as he stared in surprise as he watched what was going on below. After Aggie had allowed Holmes to help her from the carriage, he acted like a true gentleman and picked up her bag. Then, with a hand resting far too comfortably in the small of her back, he guided her into the house. "How on earth could Mrs Hudson have known?"

Immediately, Watson felt guilty for having doubted his friend, and he fervently hoped that Mrs Hudson wouldn't utter a single word about their flutter. He didn't think he could live with the ridicule Holmes would inflict on him; enduring their landlady's quietly smug expression was going to be hard enough. Sighing, and sliding a shilling into his waistcoat pocket for later, Watson settled himself into his favourite chair, picked up the newspaper, and tried to look for all the world as if he'd been there all the time Holmes had been out, and not glued to the window waiting for his friend to return in failure.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

"Welcome back, Mr Holmes," Mrs Hudson said.

Holmes stopped suddenly. "How much money have you managed to con out of my poor innocent co-inhabitant?" he asked, almost in amusement.

To her credit, Mrs Hudson didn't even blink, though Aggie looked surprised enough for both of them. "Only a shilling, Mr Holmes, and no, I will not be sharing it with you." She raised her chin at him. "In fact, I hope to…'con', as you so *delicately* put it, a little more money out of the good doctor before this is over."

"I'm surrounded by scoundrels and villains!" Holmes exclaimed to no one, throwing his arms in the air. "Oh, where are my manners? Mrs Hudson, this is Aggie…forgive me, dear girl, I have no idea what your second name is."

"It's Morton, sir…Mr Holmes…I mean…," Aggie stuttered.

Holmes silenced her with a wave of his hand. "Mrs Hudson, as my dear Watson has probably already informed you, this young lady and I will be posing as a married couple in a case I am investigating. I would very much appreciate it if you would perhaps…."

Anticipating he was about to make a potentially disastrous blunder, Mrs Hudson cut in. "I will do my best to transform this young lady into a butterfly, Mr Holmes," she said, and he flashed her a quick smile. "How long do I have?"

"How long do you need?"

"As long as you can give me."

"Then that is how long you shall have." With a curt little bow to Aggie, Holmes then turned and bounded up the stairs.

Aggie stared after him. "Is he always…?"

Mrs Hudson nodded somewhat wearily. "Always. Don't worry, dear, I'm sure you'll get used to it. Either that or you'll simply grow immune. Now, let's see what we can do with you. Come on."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Watson looked up in mild surprised when his friend burst into the room. "Back so soon, Holmes?" he asked in a mild tone which he knew wouldn't fool the detective for a second.

But Holmes wore an expression of growing irritation. "Yes," he said shortly, going straight to his armchair and sitting cross-legged in it, staring absently at the carpet.

But Watson wasn't fooled either. It seemed they were going to play for a while. "Were you successful?" he inquired, even though he already knew the answer. Yet when Holmes looked at him, Watson wondered if they were really playing a game or not, for his friend seemed so serious, with none of the telltale signs that meant he would start laughing or smiling any second.

"Does it matter if I was or wasn't, Watson?" Holmes snapped, springing out of his chair like…well, a coiled spring suddenly released, and he starting to pace.

"It makes all the difference in the world, old man," Watson replied. "How will you ever solve the case…?"

Holmes whirled and pointed at his friend. *"Exactly!"* he exclaimed. "That is just *it*! How *will* I ever solve this case?"

"I hadn't finished, Holmes," Watson told him.

The detective ignored him. "Who am I trying to fool, Watson?" he asked, flopping back into his chair and staring moodily into the fire. "I have never even been in love; how am I supposed to convince the world that I am now married?"

Several replies popped into Watson's head, all of which he stored away for use at a later date. Instead, he said, "Why don't you tell me some more about the case? Maybe I can help."

Holmes flashed him a quick, grateful smile. "Well, it's all horrendously simple, really. On the surface, at least. There is a gang of thieves, comprising of at least three individuals, that are targeting wealthy and recently married couples."

"Is there any violence involved?"

"Not one little bit! Invariably, there is a party, and while everyone is dancing with everyone else, the jewels are…." Holmes made a rather rapid gesture with his hand. "…Gone! Taken without the owner even noticing until it is far too late! Of course, no one has any idea who the thieves are because they don't know *when* the thefts occurred! If *only* people would pay more attention!"

"Then you would be out of a job, Holmes," Watson said with a smile.

"Sometimes, Watson, I fear that may be a good thing."

"And how long does that thought last?"

"About three seconds," Holmes replied promptly. "There have been five thefts that I know of, yet I have been unable to discover where and to whom the jewels are being sold. And since no one has any clue as to the identity of these thieves, the only option left to me if I am to solve this case is to go clandestinely to one of these parties."

"As a newly married man," Watson stated.

"Precisely."

"I take it this is a case you will not be getting paid for?" Watson asked.

"Does that question have any relevance?" Holmes replied.

Watson sighed and stood, lighting a cigarette. "I can appreciate how frustrating this case must be for you, Holmes, especially with no leads to work with, but is it worth putting yourself, and Aggie, through all of this? What if the thieves realise who you are? What is this time, they decide to turn violent?"

Holmes fixed his friend with a sharp, amused state. "My dear Watson, if I didn't know any better, I would say you are concerned for my well being."

"Well of course I am, you fool!" the doctor replied. "Since you have no concept of personal danger, someone has to look out for you." He paused to take a drag of his cigarette. "I'm serious, Holmes, have you thought this through properly? You could be placing Aggie in serious danger."

"Believe me, Watson, I have considered every aspect of this case carefully," Holmes said, assuming his brooding position once again. "Aggie's safety is more important than catching the thieves, of course, and I will certainly explain the full extent of the danger because we embark on our task. If she chooses to stay behind, I will understand perfectly. However, if she still wishes to accompany me, I could not ask for a better wife."

How Watson stopped himself for either staring incredulously or laughing out loud, he did not know. The man before him simply could not be Holmes; such statements, which bordered on an admission of affection for another person, were not part of the detective's character. Suddenly the doctor was looking forward to meeting the young woman who could bring about such a change in his friend in such a short space of time.

"I must go to the telegraph office," Holmes announced suddenly, jumping from his chair again, and startling Watson. "I'll be back later!"

The doctor grumbled as he brushed ash off his waistcoat and shook his head. Deduction told him Aggie would be downstairs with Mrs Hudson, and that if he disturbed them, he would incur the wrath of their landlady, something he avoided at all costs. Instead, Watson threw his cigarette end into the fire, sat back down and picked up the paper again, idly wondered how Holmes was going to explain all of this to his brother, Mycroft.

TBC


	6. Questions and Answers

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

"I was thinking," Aggie started a little hesitantly. "What can you tell me about Mr Holmes, Mrs Hudson?"

The landlady looked up from her darning, chuckled and shook her head. "Many stories that you simply would not believe," she replied.

"But what's he like, really?"

"You're too young to know what I think," Mrs Hudson said.

Aggie huffed defensively. "If I've got to pretend to be his wife, I need to know."

Mrs Hudson stared at her for a moment, pursed her lips and set aside her darning. "Very well, but I'll warn you now; the answer I give certainly won't be the answer you're looking for, and it probably won't be an answer you want. You won't be marrying Mr Holmes, you'll be marrying whatever character he thinks up for the part."

"He told me different," Aggie said quietly.

"Did he now? Well, perhaps, perhaps not. In my experience, Mr Holmes has a silver tongue when he wants something, but more often than not, his promises fall a little short. That doesn't mean he does it on purpose," Mrs Hudson continued quickly. "Not always, at least." She sighed. "He is a very complicated, brilliant, erratic man. I think the only person who can say they know him well is Dr Watson. So, my dear, if you want to know anything about Mr Holmes, I suggest you ask the doctor or the man himself."

"But I'm asking you." Again, Aggie used a quiet, soft tone of voice, and as Mrs Hudson looked at the young woman, she could see fear looking back at her.

"Yes, you are," the landlady replied after a few moments. "Very well, what is it you wish to know?"

Aggie shrugged. "Anything that will help me play the part. His habits…."

Mrs Hudson shook her head. "Whatever you consider to be normal, Mr Holmes considers to be strange. He can go for days without sleeping or eating, and he will smoke like a chimney when the mood takes him. But if he is to play the part of a newly married man, then that is what he will be. He'll be overly charming and protective, and he will simply dote on you, my dear." Aggie bit her lip, but didn't say anything. "Is something wrong?"

"Mr Holmes…he'll be acting," she said, but didn't expand on the sentence.

However, Mrs Hudson was not a stupid woman. She had learnt, from Dr Watson, of the exploits of Holmes during the Charles Augustus Milverton case, and how he had used Aggie. She guessed the maid's feelings were indeed real for the detective, and therefore she had been as surprised as Watson when Holmes brought Aggie home. It was obvious to Mrs Hudson that Aggie clearly believed her feelings were not reciprocated, but for Holmes to single out her in particular to play his wife…well, that spoke volumes to the observant landlady. If she was right, Aggie's feelings weren't as one-sided as the maid believed.

Mrs Hudson smiled at Aggie. "Don't dwell on it, my dear. Don't forget, you'll be playing a part as well. And speaking of that, I must get you ready." She held up the garment she had been sewing. "Yes, I think this will suit you perfectly. It's a bit old, I'm afraid…."

Aggie smiled back. "It's perfect. Thank you."

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

When Holmes returned from the telegram office, he seemed in much better spirits. He moved about the room with his usual quick steps, looking as though he was almost dancing. Watson, being more used to Holmes' changes in moods than anyone - save perhaps Mycroft or Mrs Hudson - didn't even look up from the paper he was reading, not even when he heard Holmes filling his pipe rather noisily, or when the detective dropped into his chair like a lead balloon.

The sudden bark of joyous laughter, however, was another matter. Sighing, Watson folded his paper carefully, lit a cigarette and stared at his friend. "Would you care to share your source of amusement?" he asked.

Holmes was attempting to keep a straight face, but the corners of his lips were twitching seemingly of their own accord and his eyes were sparkling with mirth. "Check the late edition of the newspaper, Watson, and if you do not find the answer there, it will most certainly be in tomorrows!"

Watson now eyed his friend cautiously. "Why? What have you done?"

"Simply laid out some bait, my dear doctor."

"Holmes…." Watson's tone was warning.

The detective sighed. "Very well! If you must know…I have simply announced my engagement."

"That's all?" Watson asked in a suspicious voice.

Holmes smiled. "That is all, my dear fellow," he assured him.

Watson didn't appear too convinced, though, but he let the matter drop. "Very well."

"In fact, I shall see if the newspapers are out now." Holmes leapt to his feet and strode across the room.

"You've only just got back!" Watson protested. "And I doubt Mrs Hudson would be best pleased if you tried to interrupt her again." But he received no reply; the detective had already reached the bottom of the stairs and the doctor heard him tap on the kitchen door.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Aggie tried not to laugh. "He sounds like a naughty school boy," she commented after Mrs Hudson had sent Holmes away, telling him not to bother them again.

"You're not far wrong," the landlady agreed. "I think all men are like that, though. Underneath all their supposed toughness, they're just little boys. As long as there's someone to look after them, they're happy."

"Mrs Hudson…why me?" Aggie asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did Mr Holmes ask me to do this? After everything what happened, I didn't think I'd ever see him again." Aggie shrugged. "And there's got to be someone else, someone better for…."

There was another knock on the door. "The answer is the same as before, Mr Holmes!" Mrs Hudson called. A disgruntled silence followed. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"

"Ain't there…?"

"Isn't there," Mrs Hudson corrected the maid. "It may be difficult, but you must remember to speak properly. One mistake could put both you and Mr Holmes in danger."

Aggie looked mortified. "Danger? Mr Holmes didn't say anything about…."

"Hush, child," the landlady soothed the distraught young woman, laying a hand on her fore arm. "Mr Holmes is…is outside the door and will go hungry if he keeps disturbing us!"

Aggie giggled nervously as they heard some quiet mumbling outside. "I know, he'll protect me," she said softly, but with conviction. "But I'm allowed to worry."

"Indeed you are, my dear."

"I just hope I don't let him down."

"I'm sure you won't." Mrs Hudson suddenly looked behind Aggie. "Mr Holmes, if you knock on this door once more, you'll find out just how dangerous a weapon a frying pan can make!" Silence responded. "We shall be up to see you and Dr Watson when the young lady is presentable, and not a minute before!"

"My dear Mrs Hudson, I merely came to enquire as to when dinner would be served," the innocent reply came some moments later.

"Yes, I'm sure you did, Mr Holmes," the landlady replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Now shoo!"

There was some muted grumbling and then the sound of exaggerated footsteps on the stairs. Aggie looked curiously at Mrs Hudson. "How did you know?"

She smiled. "When you have been around Mr Holmes as long as I have, you would know too."

"Then I'll never know," Aggie replied somewhat sadly.

Mrs Hudson regarded her for a few moments. "Perhaps not, my dear, but there is always a chance you could be wrong. Now, let's do something with your hair, shall we?"

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

"No luck, old man?" Watson asked, amused.

"Tell me, Watson, in your professional opinion, how dangerous would a frying pan be?" Holmes replied.

The doctor looked at him curiously. "In the wrong hands, quite dangerous. One hard tap on the skull in the right place could crush the bone and kill a man. Why?"

Holmes flopped into his armchair, one leg hanging over the arm, and stared morosely into the fire. "That's what I thought."

"Why?" Watson repeated.

"Mrs Hudson just threatened me with one," he replied, and his companion tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. Holmes sighed in exasperation. "Watson, could you at least *try* to be sympathetic? Wounding with a frying pan could be a very serious offence, not to mention the amount of pain that would accompany such an act! Oh, whatever did I do to deserve such house companions?" He leant his head back and sighed again.

"I'm sorry, old man. I'm just surprised she hasn't threatened you with one before, that's all."

"Watson, you are not helping matters!"

Watson looked at him innocently. "I wasn't aware I was supposed to be helping at all."

Holmes sighed. "My dear doctor, how many times must I tell you that my wanting to exclude you from these proceedings has nothing to do with my opinion of you, or that I think you less than capable. It is merely a matter of…fitting in." He smiled briefly. "And as you are without a wife…."

"A fact I thank you for reminding me of, Holmes," Watson replied bitterly, though instantly he regretted his tone. It wasn't as though he had been short of offers or chances; but every time a lady came along that particularly took his eye, his loyalty to Holmes overrode everything else, and so he stayed, alone, with the detective. And Watson had thought Holmes oblivious to his needless sacrifice. Until now.

"Watson, I…." Holmes swallowed. "You would have made a wonderful husband to some lucky lady, and a wonderful father to a child as well. And you still might! There's life left in you yet, Watson! But this case…it calls for just one of us. If I should find myself in need of assistance, then trust me; the first person I shall call on is my faithful Boswell." He smiled again and stood up quickly, striding to the window, snagging his violin on the way past. "Now, how about a little music while we wait for the ladies to present themselves?"

Watson smiled, touched by his friend's words and understanding how embarrassed he must have been to speak them. "An excellent idea, old man." Holmes started to play a haunting melody, and the doctor found himself relaxing to the tune, but suddenly it stopped, and he cracked an eye open.

"Watson? When I said just now that if I needed help, I would call…."

"Yes, Holmes."

"Well, I'm calling!"

Watson was about to ask what the devil Holmes was going on about when there was an almighty crash downstairs as the front was pushed open, and then heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs.

"What the devil…?" Watson started.

Holmes looked markedly unconcerned. "Ah. That would be brother Mycroft."

"Mycroft? Here? But I though you said that one could tell the time of day by where Mycroft was?"

"Oh, it is true, you can set your watch by my brother. He is a remarkable predictable fellow."

"So for him to break his routine…."

"It must be something of the gravest importance," Holmes agreed, his eyes once again doing a dance of mirth that resembled the Highland fling.

Watson knew that look and he started to really worry. "Holmes, what have you done?"

Before the detective could answer, Mycroft Holmes burst in waving a telegram about like a sword, his physical size and obvious towering anger making the room shrink. "Sherlock! What the devil is the meaning of this?"

TBC


	7. Brotherly Love

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Holmes merely stared at his brother. "The meaning of what, brother mine?" he asked, his overly innocent voice fooling no one.

"This!" Mycroft replied, still brandishing the telegram. "I do not take lightly to being…ordered around in such a fashion, Sherlock! Nor do I like being summoned!"

Watson, being the soul of diplomacy and discretion, quickly handed Mycroft a cigar and led him to his chair near the fire. "Would you care for a drink?" the doctor asked the older Holmes.

"Ah, there might be a problem with that, Watson," the younger Holmes interjected. "Or have you forgotten that our agreeable landlady is occupied at present?"

"I thought…."

"You might have more success than I?" The corners of Holmes' mouth twitched. "By all means, my dear fellow, you are welcome to try."

Watson ignored the jest in his friend's tone. "Actually, Holmes, I thought your brother might like a brandy."

"An excellent idea, Dr Watson," Mycroft replied, puffing on his cigar, seemingly having recovered from his bout of temper already.

But Holmes wasn't fooled. "I do believe there is a reason for your visit, brother mine," he prompted Mycroft, who instantly started to scowl at him.

"By jove, there certainly is!" He started to brandish the telegram once more, but Watson was completely fed up with pieces of paper being flaunted in such a dangerous fashion, and again with surprisingly nimble reflexes, he snatched the telegram from Mycroft's fingers.

"'Need marriage certificate for Charles Brentwood and Agatha Morton urgently. Cannot wait until tomorrow. Is of the greatest importance'," Watson read, then looked at Holmes. "Seems perfectly understandable to me."

"Well I would appreciate it if someone would explain it to *me*!" Mycroft exclaimed.

Holmes smiled and put up a hand. "Calm yourself, Mycroft," he told his brother. "The matter is a simple one, yet I have been unable to solve the problem remotely. So now I must immerse myself in the world in order to bring the thieves to justice."

Mycroft sipped his brandy. "I presume you are referring to the spate of jewellery thefts that have plagued the city recently," he said. "I did wonder how long it would take until you become embroiled in such a trivial case, but you do seem to thrive on such things."

"It is a failing of mine," Holmes admitted with a smile.

"You really do ask too much, Sherlock," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "Not only are you asking me to produce a fake marriage certificate, which is by no means easy, you are impersonating a real person!"

Watson clicked his fingers. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "Lord Charles Brentwood, the famous racehorse owner. Didn't he train them as well?"

Holmes smiled again. "The very same."

"Really, Holmes," Watson admonished his friend, also shaking his friend. "Don't you think there's a slight problem with your plan?"

"Not really. I do believe that Lord Brentwood is currently holidaying in the south of France with his fiancée…."

"Please tell me she is *not* called Agatha Morton," Watson said in disbelief.

Holmes laughed. "No, that would simply be too priceless, Watson! Actually, I cannot recall the young lady's name, not that it matters. The point of fact is that Lord Brentwood is engaged, and as he is not in the country yet, nor will he be back for several weeks, I am free to assume his identity."

Watson shook his head again. "One of these days, Holmes, you're going to go too far."

Holmes waved his concern away with a quick flick of his hand. "There is no point in living, my dear Watson, without a bit of danger, of excitement!"

"I could quite happily get by without any more of either," Watson murmured.

Holmes heard him, but ignored him and focussed his attention on Mycroft. "After the help I have given you, brother mine, not forgetting my services to Her Majesty's government on more than one occasion, I would have thought you would be a little more helpful."

"Do you have *any* idea what you are asking for, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

"Of course I do!" his brother snapped back, rising from his chair to start pacing. "Do you really believe I would ask this of you if it were not the absolutely *final* choice I had? There is no other way to stop these thieves; if there were, I would have found it by now!"

Mycroft held his hand up. "I was merely…."

Holmes ignored him, having gotten caught up in the moment. "And in case you haven't realised, Mycroft, there is a royal wedding in less than two weeks time! A newly married couple who would present the biggest challenge yet to these damnable thieves!"

"Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted. "Shut up." Obediently, Holmes did as he was told and also sat back down. Watson tried not to laugh. "Now, as I was trying to say, I was merely making sure that you knew exactly what you were doing before I gave you these." He took an envelope from inside his jacket. "Everything you need to pull off this charade, from wedding rings to tickets for the honeymoon, and a marriage certificate."

"Mycroft, you are a gentleman and a saint," Holmes said with a smile, snatched the envelope from his brother's fingers. "Let no one say differently."

"The only person likely, or brave enough, to is you, Sherlock, and you have, on many occasions," Mycroft replied dryly. Holmes grinned as he opened the envelope and started to inspect its contents. "Now, when do I get to meet the girl?"

"When Mrs Hudson has deemed her presentable," Watson replied as the detective was far too busy to answer.

Mycroft nodded. "I see. So it could be any time between now and next week."

"Exactly."

"Then I have time to spring a surprise on my brother," he murmured.

Watson immediately looked wary. Hoaxes between siblings were bad enough, but with two brothers as intelligent and devious as these, the trick could be one of tremendous proportions. Mycroft caught the expression and laughed.

"Do not trouble yourself, Dr Watson, I would never allow any permanent harm to come to Sherlock."

The word 'permanent' didn't sound too promising to Watson, but he didn't pursue the matter. "I don't believe for a second that you would," he replied politely.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft said loudly in order to catch his brother's attention.

"Yes?"

"I have arranged for an actual wedding ceremony to be performed between yourself and Miss Morton," Mycroft explained. "There will be the minimal of guests, of course, and the date will not be announced, but photos will be needed for the papers. I have also taken the liberty of smoothing things over with Lord Brentwood's family."

"Mycroft, you are a treasure," Holmes replied. "When will the wedding be?"

"Three days time, so I hope your blushing bride-to-be will be ready by then."

"I have every faith in Mrs Hudson's capabilities in that department," Holmes answered, once again turning his attention to the items in his hands.

Watson leant in to whisper to Mycroft. "And the surprise?"

Mycroft smiled devilishly. "Wait and see, my good doctor. Wait and see."

A knock at the door prevented Watson from inquiring further, and he turned to call, "Yes? Come in."

Mrs Hudson appeared, a mysterious smile on her face. "I thought I heard your voice, sir," she greeted Mycroft. "And I'm glad to see none of the furniture has been broken."

"Mrs Hudson, your lack of faith in us is completely unfounded!" Holmes told her, flashing her one of his most charming smiles. It didn't work, but it rarely did, and Watson often wondered why his friend bothered.

"No, Mr Holmes, it is very well founded, I assure you." She looked carefully at each man before proceeding. "Are you busy, sirs?"

Watson smiled. "Not particularly. Why?"

"I wish to present Mr Holmes' fiancée." Mrs Hudson turned and beckoned Aggie. "Don't be shy, my dear."

TBC


	8. Miracle Worker

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

A stunned silence filled the room as Aggie entered, her eyes slightly downcast, her hands clasped before her at the waist. Watson, who was drawn to the opposite sex the way a sailor is drawn to the sea, managed to tear his eyes away from Aggie in order to observe Holmes and his brother. Mycroft sat very still, his cigar hanging limply from one hand, his brandy glass hovering halfway to his mouth, yet somehow he managed to appear as if he wasn't staring, or that he hadn't been caught completely unawares. Quite obviously, though, he approved of Mrs Hudson's efforts with Aggie, as did Watson.

The doctor then looked at Holmes, and it was a sight he would commit to memory, though he dearly wished he had a camera handy as the look on his friend's face would have made a priceless picture. Holmes' eyes were wider than Watson thought a pair of eyes could ever go and it seemed as though a lifetime's worth of shock had accumulated in those pale orbs. His jaw was hanging open, regardless of the fact that it made him look a little like the village idiot, and to Watson's great surprise, he saw Holmes' hands were actually shaking.

Mrs Hudson wore a smug expression would have shamed the single cat in a cream-producing factory, but it was Aggie's face that Watson found most interesting. Despite her eyes being downcast, she was obviously watching each man's reaction and when she noticed how Holmes was staring, a small, fleeting amount of triumph appeared, disappearing so quickly Watson wondered if he had actually seen it.

Recovering from his stupor, the doctor rose to his feet, intent on giving his compliments to both ladies, but Mycroft beat him to it. "My dear Miss Morton, my brother will pale in comparison to such a rose such as yourself," he greeted her, bowing and shaking her hand.

"Thank you, sir," Aggie replied, smiling demurely.

Watson noticed her accent was less pronounced and more proper. Innocuously, he pushed Mycroft out of the way and pilfered Aggie's hand from him. "My dear, you are quite positively the most beautiful thing to enter this room for a long time," the doctor said as he bent low and kissed the back of her hand. "Except, of course, for our miracle working landlady." He smiled at Mrs Hudson.

She chuckled. "Smooth talker."  
As Aggie blushed and cast her eyes downwards at the doctor's sincere compliment, Holmes snapped out of his reverie and sprang to his feet. "Watson, I would kindly ask you to leave my wife alone, lest I be called upon to defend her honour, and mine!"

Watson rolled her eyes. "Technically, old man, she's still only your fiancée and therefore fair game."

"Dr Watson!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed in a disapproving tone.

"I say, steady on, Doctor," Mycroft said.

Holmes stepped up to Watson and towered over him. "If you were not such a dear friend, I would take very serious umbrage to that comment."

Watson gulped and took a step backwards. "I was only jesting," he protested, putting his hands up in defence. "No need for violence, Holmes. I've been on the receiving end of your right hook before and I have no wish to repeat the experience." He paused, thinking. "The same goes for your left hook as well."

"No need to fret, Dr Watson," Aggie said, her voice full and rich. "I doubt my fiancé would resort to violent measures to protect me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Watson muttered, taking advantage of the distraction to move to the safety of the other side of the room.

Holmes, once again confronted with his bride-to-be, found himself slightly speechless, and it was obvious to everyone in the room that he was struggling with some unknown internal dilemma. It was also obvious that Aggie was the cause of his quandary, which only served to confuse the onlookers even more. Holmes had never shown the slightest interest in anyone of the fairer sex - or the same sex, for that matter - except for Irene Adler, and that was merely because she had bested him. There was never a glimmer of romantic interest in her. But with Aggie…it appeared Holmes had finally discovered a deep well of emotion and he had no clue how to deal with his feelings.

Mycroft's expression was impassive, but Watson knew he was shocked to his bones by his brother's behaviour. Both Holmes men were destined to be lifelong bachelors, but now, in Mycroft's eyes, his younger brother could very well destroy that ideal. For his part, Watson wasn't all that surprised. He had often suspected that Holmes just needed to meet the right woman, and after he had heard the details of the Charles Augustus Milverton case, and had seen Holmes' reaction to using Aggie in such a way, Watson guessed the maid really had touched his heart, a prospect Holmes had never even considered.

But it was Mrs Hudson who surprised the doctor the most. She stood near the door, hands folded together, a mysterious expression on her face. It was smug, to be sure, but also very aware, as though she knew something no one else did. That, coupled with Mycroft's enigmatic statement about the prank he was going to play on his brother, made Watson suddenly feel very sorry for Holmes.

"You look spectacular," Holmes said when he finally found his voice.

Aggie looked at him, her young face full of innocence. "Do you really think so?"

Holmes nodded as he took her hand. "Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife."

"Then it's a good job you're that lucky man," she replied.

Holmes immediately looked like a deer caught in a hunter's sights, fully aware there's no escape. He tried to look casual as he dropped Aggie's hand but he only succeeded in appearing exactly as he was: terrified. Watson, while still being amused by the whole incident, decided to take pity on his friend.

"You must think us terribly rude," he said to Aggie with a charming smile. "Normally we would not keep a beautiful woman such as yourself standing in the doorway like this, but quite honestly, my dear, you have taken us all by surprise."

"Indeed," Mycroft agreed, and while Aggie didn't know the older Holmes at all, she could tell by his tone of voice that his single word was teeming with sincerity.

"I'm not really used to eti…e-ti-quette," Aggie said, pronouncing the word carefully. "So if you slip up, it's alright."

"Please, have a seat." Watson gestured to the couch and watched in fascination as Aggie sat down and carefully folded her hands in her lap. Holmes quickly moved to take his usual position in his chair, but instead of being relaxed, he leant forward, all of his attention on Aggie, but his expressionless mask was back in place and no one could guess what he was thinking.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said in a crisp voice.

"Hmm?" Holmes replied distractedly, looking up.

"Do not forget your wedding is in three days time, and you and Miss Morton must put on a suitably believable show in order to fool everyone," Mycroft told him. "The same evening you have an invitation to a wealthy socialite party hosted by one Tobias Fox. The thieves will more than likely be there."

"Good, good," Holmes said in the same distracted tone.

A sudden thought struck Watson, one he didn't like much. "Mycroft, I have a question."

"Sherlock will use makeup," Mycroft replied. "He's very good at disguises as you well know, Doctor."

"Yes, but making himself look like an actual person is a different thing."

Mycroft looked amused. "Not really. Lord Brentwood is tall like Sherlock, and they are about the same build. His nose is not quite as, ah, distinguished, but the eyes are the same."

"And it is a simple thing to change the colour of one's hair, and add a beard or moustache if necessary," Holmes added, finally emerging from his reverie.

"You see, Doctor, there is nothing to fear," Mycroft said.

Watson looked at Mrs Hudson and was glad to see her expression mirrored his; where the Holmes brothers were concerned, there was a *lot* to fear, but neither of them was brave or stupid enough to voice their opinions.

"And now, Sherlock, I will leave you and Miss Morton to work out the details of your relationship." Mycroft inclined his head at Aggie, and then walked out of the room. "A word, Dr Watson," he murmured, speaking barely above a whisper.

Watson turned to make some excuse to Holmes, but he could see it wasn't necessary. The detective and Aggie were already engaged in conversation and nothing short of a volcano erupting in the middle of Baker Street would disturb them. The doctor followed Mrs Hudson and Mycroft downstairs, his curiosity piqued.

"You know I have every faith in Sherlock's abilities," Mycroft said without preamble once he was certain he was out of earshot of Holmes. "But I fear he may be over-exerting himself with this case. If there was anyone else with him…."

Instantly, Watson understood his concerns. "Miss Morton certainly does seem to have touched your brother's heart," he admitted. "I have never seen him react this way with any woman before."

"Neither have I, and both you and I know, Doctor, what a wonderfully wicked spell the fairer sex can cast on a man."

"Charming," Mrs Hudson murmured.

Mycroft ignored her comment. "As I was saying, normally I would not worry about my brother, but this time…. Doctor Watson, I would like you to attend the party of Tobias Fox. I have the invitation in place if you should agree."

"Of course," Watson agreed instantly. "The last thing I wish is for any harm to befall Holmes or Miss Morton."

"Good man," Mycroft said gruffly. "Oh, there is one last thing."

"Yes?"

"The party is for married couples only. You shall need a wife." Mycroft tipped his hat. "Good day to you."

For a moment, Watson and Mrs Hudson stood in silence, each contemplating the only option Mycroft had given them. Finally, the doctor spoke. "Mrs Hudson…."

"Yes, Dr Watson?"

"I was wondering…."

"I suppose so."

"Thank you."

"As long as you keep your hands to yourself," she told him primly.

Watson looked wounded. "Mrs Hudson, I am the very definition of a gentleman."

Her reply was a sceptical, "Hmm." Then she became serious. "There is one problem."

"Oh?"

"I don't have a thing to wear."

TBC


	9. The Wedding

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

It was, Holmes decided, quite possibly the most bizarre three days of his life, and that was saying something. At the insistence of Mrs Hudson, Watson, and Aggie herself, the detective had spent every waking moment with his pretend bride-to-be, and against all his better judgements and experience, he was actually beginning to enjoy her company. She seemed to be able to see through his mask of indifference to something hidden beneath, something even Holmes himself couldn't, or didn't want to, see.

They walked a great deal, through the streets of London, in the countryside, and Aggie always kept her hands on Holmes' arm. At first the constant contact irritated him, but at he threw himself into the role of an engaged man, he grew to enjoy the closeness. They visited the theatre and ate in fine restaurants, Holmes doing his best to make Aggie feel at ease and gently correcting her whenever she did something wrong. And he found himself noticing little things about her that wouldn't normally interest him; the way she laughed, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she was amused but trying not to show it, the set of her jaw when she was upset. When Holmes was alone with Watson in the evenings, he would naturally complain about the amount of time he had wasted during the day just by being with his supposed fiancée, but he wasn't sure if Watson believed his spiel any more than he did himself.

Actually, it was because of his extended time with Aggie that Holmes began to notice something very odd occurring between his Boswell and his landlady. Quite often when he and Aggie returned from their outings, Watson and Mrs Hudson would be together, usually in deep conversation which would immediately break off when they saw the 'happy couple'. And every time Holmes started to inquire as to what the hell was going on, Aggie would smoothly divert his attention, which both amused and annoyed him. He *knew* they were up to something, but he couldn't think for the life of him what it could be. He also had his suspicions that his brother was involved, but again, lack of a proper investigation made it difficult for Holmes to be sure of anything. Although that wasn't strictly true; he was definitely aware of one thing, and it was something he wasn't prepared for.

Aggie.

The woman had suddenly become a complete mystery to him, and while Holmes certainly enjoyed an enigma, this was one that was confusing him greatly. When he had been masquerading as a plumber, he thought Aggie to be quite simple and easily manipulated. But now, on a different playing field, she seemed to be a different person. Holmes would often catch her looking at him with an expression he couldn't fathom. Of course, to get an answer, all he needed to do was ask Watson, who could have told him instantly what the expression was: predatory.

It was now the morning of the wedding, which would be carried out in the afternoon, and Holmes was enjoying some time alone as Aggie was with Mrs Hudson preparing. Preparing what, for what, or to do what, Holmes didn't know, but he was grateful for the peace and quiet.

"Good morning, Holmes," Watson said cheerfully as he entered the room.

The detective sighed. So much for his peace and quiet. "It never ceases to amaze me how cheerful you can be at such a ghastly hour," Holmes replied.

Watson rolled his eyes. "Yes, I did sleep well, thank you. Lovely day, isn't it?" He spoke quietly, to himself, and his tone was sarcastic.

Holmes had the good grace to look amused. "And what will you be doing on this fine day, Doctor?"

"Making sure you don't run away," Watson replied as he opened the newspaper.

"Why on earth...?"

"Because you're getting married and grooms tend to get nervous before the big day," the doctor answered quickly, pouring himself some coffee. "You wouldn't be the first man to scarper before the ceremony."

"You are forgetting one important fact, my dear Watson," Holmes told him. "I'm not actually getting married."

Watson regarded him quite seriously. "That may be so, but I can assure you that Aggie will be putting every effort into looking her best, so try to take it seriously."

Holmes simply waved his comment aside, but Watson knew he had taken the advice on board. "Now, remind me again, what is the battle plan for today?"

Watson chose not to comment on his friend's choice of words. "Wash, shave, get dressed, then put on your disguise," he replied, looking back at the newspaper. "I'll help you with everything but the disguise. Then we need to run through the ceremony, and by that time Aggie should be ready and we - that is, you, myself, Aggie, and Mycroft – will go to the chapel."

"I am quite capable of washing and dressing myself, Watson," Holmes protested, ignoring everything that followed the statement the doctor would help. "And I am certainly more than capable of shaving. I have been doing so alone for quite a number of years now."

With a quiet sigh, Watson folded the newspaper and placed it on the table with an air of long-suffering. "Hold out your hand."

"Watson, this is ridiculous!"

"Humour me."

"Fine." Holmes thrust his arm straight out, and then proceeded to frown at his wobbling hand. "Why is it doing that?"

"Remember those nerves I mentioned before? This is the start of them," Watson replied. "So consider it my wedding present to you, old man, sending you to the chapel with your face intact."

"Watson, I simply do not understand any of this!" Holmes exclaimed with a petulant cry.

Watson smiled sympathetically, reached across the table and patted the bony arm. "Don't worry, Holmes, if you did, you would be the first groom in history to do so."

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

If the circumstances had been any different, Watson would have chuckled out loud from the absurdity of it all. The carriage ride to the chapel was spent in silence, with Aggie looking like the picture of composure, and Holmes the epitome of nervousness, and that was what the doctor found amusing. Holmes, the great detective, the frozen man, some called him, the thinking machine...if only they could see him now. Despite his protestations that it wasn't a real wedding, it was obvious the mere thought of pretending to be married, of going through the motions, terrified him.

Mycroft was waiting for them. His face wore the same expressionless expression that it always did, and if Watson hadn't been forewarned, he would have had no idea that the older Holmes was planning any sort of mischief.

"Good afternoon, one and all," he greeted them.

Holmes scowled. "Oh please, Mycroft, spare us your platitudes. Is everything ready?"

"Everything is in place, and if I may say so, Sherlock, you look exactly like Lord Charles Brentwood, so much so that you could use each other for shaving mirrors."

Holmes paled and cast an unreadable sidelong glance at Watson. "Please, Mycroft, do *not* mention shaving ever again."

"I didn't do that bad of a job, Holmes," Watson protested.

"That depends on your definition of 'bad', Doctor. And because of your...enthusiasm..." Holmes gritted his teeth together.

Watson just looked at him. "You never specified exactly what I was to sha-"

"AH!" Holmes exclaimed loudly. "I believe that is doing what we said we would *never* do. No talking, do not even *think* about it, Doctor, or I shall have to murder you in your sleep!"

Aggie and Mycroft exchanged a mystified glance, and then the older Holmes cleared his throat. "The ceremony will only be short," he told them. "And then you must sign in the registry office. After that, you will be presented with your fake marriage certificate."

"How long will we have before the start of the party?" Holmes asked.

"Approximately three hours," Mycroft replied. "Mr Tobias Fox likes to start these functions rather early, and attendance is permitted any time after six pm."

Holmes nodded. "Good, good. That should give us plenty of time to prepare." Straightening, a look of determination descended upon his face. "Let us venture once more into the fray, dear friends," he said, and strode forwards.

"What are you planning, Mycroft?" Watson asked with uncharacteristic bluntness.

Mycroft looked mortally offended. "Absolutely nothing, my dear Doctor. Well, maybe a small something, but as I promised you before, no permanent harm will befall Sherlock. He may be a difficult man, but he is still my brother and as the eldest, it is my responsibility to look after him, whether he needs it or not."

"Believe me, he needs it, whether he realises it or not," Watson murmured dryly.

"Precisely," Mycroft boomed, smiling jovially. "There is nothing to fear, my good man."

"Will you two be joining us?" Holmes asked, appearing in the doorway. "Or were you simply planning on adorning the foyer like a pair of lead statues?"

"Coming, Sherlock," his brother replied with a sigh.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

There were few guests in the chapel, only the necessary amount to make the whole charade look convincing. Mrs Hudson had politely declined to attend, stating she was too busy and that it would have looked mightily suspicious for her to be there, as she had no need whatsoever. The explanation was perfectly plausible and had satisfied Holmes' need for an answer, but Watson knew it wasn't the whole reason; his wallet was taking a battering as Mrs Hudson was shopping for that night's party. It was the only day she had the time to do so leisurely without arousing Holmes' suspicions. Despite Mycroft's reassurances that Watson would be fully recompensed for any expense he had to endure in order to attend the party, the doctor would have felt much better received that compensation *before* Mrs Hudson had hit the shops.

But Watson forced his thoughts back to the ceremony, making sure he engraved every detail into his mind so he could write up the account later. Of course it may never see the light of day, but it was an event worth chronicling anyway as he doubted he would ever see the likes of it again: he would never see Sherlock Holmes, most celebrated confirmed bachelor, getting married. Never mind that it was all for show, never mind that it wasn't real; Holmes had to *believe* it was in order to make the photos for the newspapers look convincing. And as Watson watched him and Aggie together, stood waiting for the vicar, he would have sworn the ceremony was real, though he suspected that for Aggie, it was fulfilling a dream she'd had since meeting Holmes in his guise as a plumber. The way she stared at him with utter adoration was certainly no act, and if it was, it was the best piece of acting Watson had ever seen, even better than Holmes', which was certainly saying something. Though Holmes wasn't doing badly; his expression was more reserved, but his smile held all the warmth of a man who was about to embark on the greatest adventure of his life.

"Dearly beloved...," the vicar began.

Watson was certain he had been primed by Mycroft and was fully aware of the circumstances, but again, to an innocent bystander, it all looked perfectly real and there was nothing to suggest otherwise.

Except for one small part.

Watson had droned out much of the ceremony, preferring to watch the 'happy couple' instead, but when it came to the exchanging of rings, he started to pay attention.

"Do you...," the vicar said, looking at Holmes, "...take this woman..." He looked at Aggie. "...to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Holmes replied.

"And do you..." He looked at Aggie. "...take this man..." He looked at Holmes. "...to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Aggie beamed and stared Holmes full in the face. "I do."

A mysterious little twinkle lit up in the vicar's eyes and Watson's premonition that 'something horrible was going to happen' suddenly flashed into reality before his eyes. He couldn't say exactly *what* the problem was, he just knew *something* wasn't quite right... But apart form the lack of names in the wedding ceremony, nothing was...

Clarity struck like lightning and Watson turned to Mycroft, aghast. "Please tell me you didn't," he whispered.

Mycroft looked back innocently. "Didn't do what, Doctor?"

"Tell me that..." But Watson never got the chance to finished because the vicar declared Holmes and Aggie man and wife, and Aggie sealed the deal with a rather enthusiastic kiss, which some keen cameraman caught on film. Watson *definitely* wanted a copy of that shot.

They were all then lead into a small office, where Holmes and Aggie signed the marriage certificate in front of witnesses, and after shaking hands all round, the vicar left, but not before winking at Mycroft. Again, Holmes didn't notice a thing as his new bride was stealing all of his attention away, but Watson did. But he didn't get the chance to comment because Mycroft moved quickly to interrupt his brother.

"Well, Sherlock, I do believe that congratulations are in order," he boomed. "And to you as well, my dear." He looked at Aggie. "How does it feel to be married to the world's only consulting detective?"

Aggie blushed. "Strange. Even though it ain't real, it feels it." In the excitement, her accent and speech slipped, but no one commented.

Holmes was about to speak but he stopped suddenly, his face paling beyond its normal whiteness as he stared at his brother. "Mycroft, the marriage certificate," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Of course, brother mine," Mycroft replied jovially.

Watson never knew how Holmes knew, but know he did, and when he spoke again, his voice was rather shrill with stress. "This says the marriage of Sherlock Holmes and Agnes Morton!" he exclaimed.

Mycroft looked mildly surprised. "Oh? So it does."

"But I just signed as..." Holmes deflated quicker than a popped balloon. "You lied!" He actually seemed shocked. "You told me that the signature had to be my own simply for legal purposes, and that Lord Brentwood's would be substituted later!"

"And so it shall." Plucking the certificate out of his brother's hands before it came to any permanent damage, Mycroft showed Holmes a second piece of paper that had been carefully placed under the first, carbon paper separating them. "This is the one for Lord Charles Brentwood and Miss Agatha Morton," he said, waving the second one around. "And this, which contains your actual signature, is yours."

"But...why?" Holmes all but wailed. It was a masterful performance to be sure, but Watson wasn't fooled. He knew Holmes' excessive show was to cover his chagrin over being outsmarted, outwitted, and generally outmanoeuvred by his older brother. Under any other circumstances, Mycroft would never had managed such a flimsy subterfuge, but these weren't normal circumstances, and Watson decided that the difference was Aggie.

And what a difference she seemed to make. It was inconceivable in so many ways that a man like Sherlock Holmes would allow himself to be so distracted by a woman, and while he might protest and insist that it was simply a role he was playing, Watson wasn't so sure. But he didn't have time to muse; he had to stop Holmes from murdering his brother in the chapel.

"I think we should all return to Baker Street," the doctor said in a loud and clear voice. "Let us not forget that you two have a party to attend to tonight." He looked at Holmes and Aggie, who looked half-amused, half-mortified at the scene unfolding.

"I will *not* be attending," Holmes declared hotly.

"Then you will have failed in your duty to the people." Watson's statement brought him up sharply, and the doctor knew he was quite possibly the only person in the world who could get away with saying such things. "I am certain that in due time, Mycroft will have the marriage annulled without any lingering consequences over Miss Morton's future marital status...or yours."

"Quite right," Mycroft agreed. "It's only a little harmless fun, Sherlock."

Holmes glared darkly at his brother. "We'll talk about this later." With an excellent show of self-control, he offered his arm to Aggie. "Shall we, my dear?"

"Yes, darling, let us," Aggie replied aplomb.

"Oh, and Holmes?" Watson said just before they left the chapel.

"Yes?"

"Congratulations. I knew it would happen one day."

The glare he received in reply was even more venomous than the one the detective graced his brother with.

TBC


	10. Tobias Fox

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Even though Aggie knew it wasn't real, and even though she knew Holmes wasn't exactly her beloved Escott, she still felt a thrill go through her when she realised they were actually married, even if it was only for a short amount of time. Holmes, however, was less than impressed, and his showed his displeasure keenly and vocally during the carriage journey. Unfortunately, Aggie's vulnerable nature meant she took his vexation as a personal affront and by the time they returned to Baker Street, she fled into the kitchen weeping.

"*Now* what is the matter?" Holmes asked in exasperation.

It had not, Watson reflected, taken his friend long to revert to type and any other time he would have been amused. But not at that moment. "*You*, old man," he replied with an equal amount of exasperation.

Holmes stared at him. "Me? What have *I* done?" He turned to glare at Mycroft.

"As fascinating and entertaining as this afternoon has been, I really must getting along," Mycroft said, backing away to the door.

"Aren't you staying to help?" Watson demanded. "You can't leave me to deal with...*this* on my own!" It wasn't clear whether the 'this' was the situation or Holmes.

"I have every confidence in your reconciliatory abilities, Dr Watson," Mycroft replied. "You have everything for tonight, Sherlock?" His brother nodded curtly once. "Excellent. Than I shall bid you good day." With that, Mycroft made a hasty retreat.

Watson stared at the space the older Holmes had occupied seconds before and began to swear, unconcerned about who could hear him; Mrs Hudson had already slammed the kitchen door in their faces before Mycroft fled the scene of the crime, which only left Holmes, who was too busy indignant over his perceived ill-treatment at the hands of his brother.

"Honestly, what was he *thinking*?" Holmes grumbled.

Watson, throwing all semblance of dignity straight out of the window, glared at his friend, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him upstairs. "You do realise, Holmes, that sometimes I have absolutely no idea how you have managed to survive for so long without even trying to master the basic social graces!" he chastised his friend, all but pushing him into his chair.

Holmes stared up at the doctor, who looked quite incensed beyond all reason and the detective could simply not understand why. "Watson, really, your behaviour is most unbecoming! Anyone would think it was *you* who had been such cruelly tricked!"

"Holmes, I say this in the spirit of friendship: shut up." Watson's tone was quite forceful. "For such an intelligent man, you are incredibly stupid sometimes," he said bluntly. "You are not the only person to be affected by this...this 'joke' of your brother's; Aggie was an unwilling participant as well." Watson started pacing. "Holmes, you *must* realise that Aggie still harbours feelings for your...creation, Escott., and therefore, to a certain degree, she has feelings for you. The fact that you are now...'married' is something she has probably imagined; it must be a dream come true for her, though I have no idea why."

Holmes rolled his eyes. "Is this lecture coming to a point? Or even better, an end?"

Watson thought for a moment, to find another barb, the detective assumed, but really he was controlling his temper. "Do you want to catch these thieves?" he asked.

"Of course," Holmes replied, surprised at the question.

"Then start treating Aggie with some respect, genuine respect, and, if you can manage it, an iota of love," Watson said. "Otherwise your charade won't stand the scrutiny it is going to be put under. Don't forget, Holmes, that tonight is your first outing as a newly wedded couple, a *happily married* couple, at that."

The doctor's lecturing was starting to irritate Holmes, not necessarily because he was lecturing, but because he was absolutely right, and for once, being rather firm about the whole situation. "If you are so concerned about my ability to perform my job, Watson, why don't *you* go to this soiree instead?" he snapped.

Watson, for once, remained completely unflappable. "I did in fact suggest that at the start, old man, and you rather bluntly refused. As the saying goes, Holmes, you have made your bed and now you must lie in it." He sat down, tired of arguing with his friend. "You know damn well I'm telling you nothing you haven't thought of or considered already."

"You are correct," Holmes admitted.

"Then why are you being so disagreeable about the whole affair? Why not simply slip into the character of Lord Brentwood...?"

"I can't!" Holmes exclaimed, leaping from his seat and pacing over to the window, not giving Watson a chance to finish. "I... Watson, can we talk about something else?"

"No," Watson replied flatly. "Good God, man, if you cannot talk to me by now, then there really is no hope for our friendship."

"I...promised her, Watson. I...promised Aggie that...I would at least try...to let her know...the real me."

"I think you're doing an excellent job so far," the doctor remarked dryly. "Why promise her such a thing, Holmes? Why not simply lie?"

"Watson," Holmes said, aghast.

"What? Is that not what you usually do in situations such as these?"

"It is not polite to simply...come out with it in such a blunt fashion," Holmes replied stiffly.

"Perhaps not, but between friends, which I certainly hope we are, sometimes such plain speaking is necessary," Watson said gently.

Just then Mrs Hudson bustled in with a tray. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Mr Holmes," she chastised her unruly tenant, or at least one of them. "That poor young woman has done nothing but cry since you returned not half an hour ago!"

As Holmes went about trying to sooth the frazzled nerves of the landlady, Watson studied Mrs Hudson. Her face betrayed nothing of their plans for the evening, and while he was confident they would be ready on time, he couldn't help the small twinge of worry in the pit of his stomach that told him two hours were *not* going to be long enough for her to make herself 'look presentable'. And while Watson had known many women, he simply could not understand why it took ladies a minimum of one hour to get ready for a night out. Then suddenly Mrs Hudson was leaving, without even so much as looking at him, and Watson realised he hadn't heard a single word of the conversation.

Looking carefully at Holmes' expression, the doctor took his time choosing his words. "That could have gone better, I suppose."

"Hmm. Indeed," Holmes replied. "Though I suppose there are worse fates than being banned from the downstairs of the house for the remainder of the day."

Watson tried to hide his relief. "How is Aggie?"

At Holmes' frown, the doctor knew that was the wrong thing to say. "She will recover, I'm sure, but I am under strict orders from both yourself and Mrs Hudson to treat her as though she were an exotic, fragile flower."

"Perhaps you should tell her she is just that," Watson said with a smile. "A little flattery goes a long way."

Holmes crossed the room and stared out of the window. "Perhaps." For a moment, a deep melancholy feel upon the detective, like a thick blanket shrouding him, and Watson half expected him to reach, almost absently, for the box and vial in the drawer of his desk. But instead, he turned and smiled brilliantly. "What do you say to a little music?"

"That, my dear Holmes, is a question you never need ask me," the doctor replied, then added quietly, "Unless, of course, it is three o'clock in the morning."

"I heard that!"

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

When Holmes finally emerged from his room, having washed and shaved, put on his new tuxedo, and applied the make-up to transform him into Lord Brentwood. Watson was sat in his favourite chair, puffing on a fine cigar, and wearing his best smoking jacket.

"Is this some sort of occasion?" Holmes asked in an amused tone.

"It is indeed," Watson replied. "I am going to enjoy a peaceful evening doing whatever I please without having to worry about you."

"And, pray tell, what will you do that you cannot do when I am around?"

"Listen to something on the radio that I like and you do not," Watson said. "Or simply enjoy the quiet."

Holmes glared at him. "After a comment like that, Doctor, is does indeed make me wonder how you arrived at such a good reputation within your profession." He glanced at the clock on the wall, then checked the time against his pocket watch. "As much as I would enjoy bandying words with you for several more hours," he said, the sarcasm unmistakable in his voice, "I have a pressing social engagement."

"That must be a first," Watson muttered.

"Good evening, Doctor!" Holmes exclaimed loudly, pretending not to hear his friend's comment.

It was obvious to the detective, as he descended the stairs, that Watson was simply feeling disgruntled at being excluded from the evening's festivities. Not that it mattered to Holmes; all he was concerned with was catching the thieves. And, of course, protecting Aggie, though whether that was because he cared or because if any harm came to her, both Mrs Hudson and Watson would be chasing after him with a meat cleaver and a frying pan.

As Holmes reached the hallway, he remembered his exile from the downstairs area, so he called, "Ready when you are, Aggie," then continued on to the front door, where he proceeded to wait impatiently.

Upstairs, as soon as Watson heard Holmes shout, he had leapt from his chair and crept across the room, staring down into the street, waiting for the detective and Aggie to leave. As soon as they did so, he could rush upstairs and change, and hope to whoever was listening that Mrs Hudson would be ready on time. But the minutes came and went and no one emerged from 221B Baker Street.

"What can be taking so long?" Watson murmured to himself.

"Mrs Hudson! What is taking so long?" Holmes shouted impatiently. Upstairs, Watson smiled. No reply. "Mrs Hudson!" Still nothing. "Mrs Hudson, if you do not open this door at once, I shall be forced to..."

At that moment, the second time in a week Sherlock Holmes had been struck speechless, Watson would have given anything to be downstairs to see the look on his face. The doctor could only assume that Aggie's preparations for the evening were well worth the time they had taken to complete.

"You...look...exquisite," Watson heard Holmes compliment his 'wife', and he could have sworn Aggie giggled in reply. "Well, now you are ready...you *are* ready to attend tonight's party, are you not?" Holmes asked and Watson knew he wasn't just referring to Aggie's state of dress.

"Yes, I am ready," she replied in a strong clear voice.

"Excellent. Let us hail a cab, then."

A minute later, Watson saw them emerge from the house and a minute after that, Holmes waved a cab over, helped his lady into the carriage, and then they were gone. The doctor allowed himself a small smile. Unknowingly, or perhaps knowingly, Aggie had provided the perfect distraction to Holmes, stopping him from wondering where Mrs Hudson was and why she had not seen them out that evening, as was usually her custom. Then Watson shook his head and silently berated himself. It would do no good standing by the window musing all night. No, he had a job to do.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Holmes chatted in a, to him, aimless fashion as they rode to Tobias Fox's lodgings; the detective did not want to say 'hour' or 'mansion' or even 'rooms' until he had seen the place. And he could not recall half of the things he said, but it didn't seem to matter as Aggie appeared more relaxed than she had done so far. She laughed at his poor jokes, conversed with him about surprisingly serious topics, and, every so often, would touch his arm. To Holmes it was all very confusing and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, why anyone would bother courting anybody at all.

As they arrived at Fox's manor and were shown inside by an overly polite butler, Holmes reconstructed his manner of thinking; he wondered by anyone would want to *bother* with anyone else, in any context. The ballroom of Fox Manor was filled already with people, despite the earliness of the evening. Holmes could see them all smiling and joking with each other in little groups, then as soon as one of the 'pack' left, the others would immediately start complaining about them. Backstabbing, Holmes knew the proper term was, but it was all the same thing. Petty little people with their petty little lives. Grimacing at the sheer amount of false niceness in the room, the detective knew that it was going to be a very long night.

"Please try to smile, dear," Aggie said quietly at his side. "You won't win any friends that way, and isn't that why we're here?"

"Of course," Holmes replied through gritted teeth.

"This ain't any easier on me, you know," Aggie reminded him.

Holmes looked down and managed a small genuine smile. "I realise that. But this...you could come to enjoy this." He gestured at the gathered crowd. "I never will."

"You don't have to, just pretend. Now, why don't we seek our host out so we can introduce ourselves?"

As it happened, Aggie's suggestion would have been a pointless exercise if they had actually followed it through. Loud laughs went up from the largest group of people, who all seemed to be looking someone. Then a man looked up, saw Aggie and Holmes, and immediately made a beeline, the crowd parting for him, and Holmes was in no doubt this was their host.

He was tall, a fencer, Holmes would guess from the way he walked, and a damned good swordsman, from the way he carried himself. His hair was brown and closely cropped, his beard the same, and his eyes were bright green and highly intelligent. As he reached them, he immediately took Aggie's hand, bowed low and kissed the back of it.

"My name," the man said with the most charming smile Holmes had ever seen, "Is Tobias Fox. And please let me first say thank you for gracing this dull party with your divine presence."

Aggie blushed furiously and looked away while Holmes tried not to groan. This was going to be a very long night indeed.

TBC


	11. The Party

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

It was, Watson decided, one of the worst ideas he had ever had, or in thef very least, one of the worst things he had ever agreed to. The party was full of extremely rich and powerful individuals, and while Watson was quite a sociable person, and certainly a gentleman, he felt like a commoner next to Tobias Fox's guests. All were dressed in expensive gowns and tuxedos, the material fine beyond comparison. As the doctor sipped his drink, he wondered again how much Mrs Hudson's dress had cost. It was a delicate shade of lavender and he had to privately admit that she looked exquisite in it, although when he had tried to pay her such a compliment, simply in the spirit of being nice, she looked as though she would dearly love to slap him with a frying pan.

Mrs Hudson had, much to Watson's surprise, been ready on time and he decided not to ask how she had managed to achieve such a minor miracle. The carriage ride to Tobias Fox's manor had been surprisingly uncomfortable and Watson spent much of it mentally chastising himself for being so foolish. If Holmes could manage to convince people he and Aggie were indeed newly weds, then he, Watson, should have absolutely no trouble whatsoever in getting people to believe that he and Mrs Hudson were a couple about to celebrate their thirty fifth wedding anniversary. It both amused and galled him that he and his landlady could pass as husband and wife when she was clearly so much older than him, or at least so he thought.

Yet when they arrived at the manor, Mrs Hudson allowed Watson to help her down from the carriage before slipping her arm comfortably through his. "Try to smile, John," she said quietly, shocking him into deeper silence. "Parties like this should be old news to people like us."

"Be that as it may," he managed to say after a few moments, "I find myself feeling extremely nervous."

Mrs Hudson chuckled. "As am I, but if Mr Mycroft didn't think his brother needed help, he wouldn't have asked us to come, now, would he?"

Watson wasn't as sure about that statement as his 'wife'; after Mycroft's jest with the marriage certificate for Holmes and Aggie, the doctor had decided that the elder Holmes brother was capable of just about anything.

"No, probably not," he replied eventually. "Well, shall we present ourselves to the host..." Watson stopped abruptly and laughed. "I have just realised I do not know what your first name is, dear lady, and I cannot call you 'Mrs Hudson' all evening, now, can I?"

Mrs Hudson laughed as well. "No, you cannot." She smiled fondly at him. "My name is May."

"May," Watson repeated, rolling the name around his tongue. "May. It is very nice to meet you, May." He lifted her hand to his lips. "I hope you'll forgive me for not bowing but my back isn't as supple as it used to be."

"I'm not surprised, all that running around playing cat burglars with Mr Holmes," she chastised him. "And just remember what I told you, Dr Watson."

He sighed. "Yes, dear, I know. Keep my hands to myself."

"Exactly." She encouraged him to start walking. "But don't neglect me. Don't forget we are supposed to be married." She laughed as he was once more shocked into silence.

Now Watson was stood alone in a corner of the grand ballroom, his 'wife' having been spirited away by a group of gentlemen, all wishing to pay her compliments, and the doctor found himself feeling more than a little bit jealous. But he knew he shouldn't complain; while Mrs Hudson was occupied elsewhere, it gave Watson the perfect opportunity to watch Holmes, Aggie and Tobias Fox, and what he observed interested him greatly. Their young host seemed to be stepping over all boundaries of propriety by flirting outrageously with Aggie in front of Holmes, while never actually giving the detective cause to complain. Watson could see Fox was a canny opponent, but in precisely what capacity, he did not know. Perhaps the young man simply enjoyed the company of beautiful women; that was a position Watson himself could certainly appreciate. Aggie didn't seem to be minding the attention, though; she would laugh at all the right places, toss her hair occasionally, and at least once, Watson saw her touch Fox gently on the arm. If he didn't know any better, he would have said he was watching a courtship in progress. But he did know better, and while Aggie was certainly enjoying Fox's company, she was never physically far from Holmes. At one point during the party, Watson noticed Holmes had been separated from her, drifting across the room with a few other people, and when Aggie had turned to talk to him, only to realise he wasn't there, a look of panic had crossed her face. Watson saw her almost frantically scanning the crowds and upon spotting Holmes, she expertly excused herself from Fox and all but ran to her 'husband'. Fox had been courteous about being brushed off, but his face showed his disappointment. Watson felt he was a man to watch.

But the one who fascinated him the most was his dear friend Holmes. Having lived with the man for a number of years, and been part of his working life for as long, Watson felt he knew Holmes reasonably well, and could especially tell when he was acting and when he was not, having been on the receiving end of the detective's theatrical talents on more than one occasion. And while there was a small amount of acting going on during the party, the anger on Holmes' face seemed to be quite real. He looked as though he was restraining himself only barely as he watched Fox and Aggie interact, and if Watson didn't know any better, he would have said Holmes was exceedingly jealous of the younger man. Occasionally, he would remind Fox that Aggie and he were recently married, and the host would simply laugh and congratulate them, then wait a few moments before beginning his flirtatious routine with Aggie all over again. Watson watched as Holmes' fists curled and uncurled at his side, and how he glared at Fox at every opportunity. But the good doctor was more than a little worried about his friend, for while Holmes was so preoccupied with Fox, he wasn't paying attention to anyone else in the room. The sole purpose of attending the party was to try and ascertain who the thieves could be, but Holmes seemed to have forgotten all about that. Watson did see him glance around occasionally, but he was certainly not his usual observant self, and the doctor felt the task to collect evidence then lay with him. He knew without a doubt that he was nowhere near as good a judge of character as Holmes, nor could he come to the right conclusions when presented with the same evidence as his friend, but he could, from his vantage point in the corner, *collect* that evidence reasonably well. And to him, Tobias Fox was a man not to be underestimated. If Watson wished to be suspicious about the whole affair, he would assume that Fox somehow knew who Holmes really was, and by flirting with Aggie was thus keeping the detective from doing his job, allowing the thieves to freely conduct their business. Such a situation would not only result in more unhappy people but would also shame Holmes badly, and that was something Watson was not about to let happen.

"If I had known I was going to have to circulate this party alone, John, I wouldn't have suggested coming." Mrs Hudson's sharp voice brought Watson immediately to his senses.

"My dear..." He was about to say 'Mrs Hudson', and quickly realising his blunder, covered it with a cough. "My dear," he repeated, "I wasn't about to spoil your...fun with the younger gentlemen."

"There was no fun about it," she replied bluntly. "I was jolly uncomfortable and I have made several attempts this evening to catch your attention so that you could come and rescue me, all of which you ignored!" She stared at him dolefully and Watson decided it was criminal that a woman of Mrs Hudson's age could still make a man feel like a weak individual. "Don't you love me any more?"

Inwardly, Watson groaned. Why was it that women always came out with that line? It was like the last attack when they wanted to get their own way. Taking a breath, he took her hand, leant forward and kissed her cheek, moving back quickly to avoid any aggression on her part.

"Of course I still love you, May," he replied with a fond smile he hoped looked genuine to anyone watching.

But Mrs Hudson just smiled back. "That's all that matters then," she said, tugging on his hand. "And now, my dearest John, you owe me a dance."

"A dance?"

"Yes, a dance," she repeated, then dropped her voice. "Because if you stay in this corner much longer, Doctor, everybody will start to become suspicious, and we don't want Mr Holmes noticing us, now, do you?"

He sighed in mock long suffering. "No, dear."

He led her to the dance floor, where they entered into a surprisingly easy rhythm as the musicians played a delightfully slow little number. They stayed silent as they danced, each lost in their own thoughts. Watson was trying to make sure Holmes didn't spot them but he was becoming increasingly distracted by Mrs Hudson's behaviour. She seemed to be a completely different person to the fearsome landlady he was used to either evading or placating, and he was more than acutely aware that she was, in fact, a woman. A widow, true, who had never shown any inclination of wanting to encourage courtship or remarry, but a woman nonetheless, and suddenly a barrage of irrational thoughts entered Watson's head. He quashed them all and made a mental note to apologise to Holmes at the earliest possible convenience; he realised now how the detective felt around Aggie. Holmes might have been unaffected by the female of the species, but where Aggie was concerned, he was on unfamiliar territory and Watson could see the young woman was playing his friend like a well tuned violin. Not maliciously, but perhaps it was a little payback for his performance during the Charles Augustus Milverton case.

Suddenly, without warning, Mrs Hudson's arms came up, snaking themselves around Watson's neck, and she pulled him down until their lips met. To say he was stunned would have been the understatement of the century, but he quickly willed himself to respond as the loving husband he was supposed to be. Then, out of the corner of a partially open eye, he saw the reason for her completely unwarranted show of affection. Holmes and Aggie had taken to the dance floor and were making their way in the other couple's direction. Thinking quickly, Watson led Mrs Hudson away.

"I need a drink, dear," he said quietly.

Mrs Hudson nodded and fanned herself. "It is rather hot when one is dancing," she replied, taking his arm as they moved away.

Without being too obvious about it, Watson kept an eye on his friend and was almost certain the detective hadn't noticed them. "I wonder if he had managed to do much work."

Mrs Hudson looked at her 'husband'. "He does appear to have been rather preoccupied this evening," she replied.

Watson looked surprised. "Did I say that out loud?"

She laughed. "Yes, John, you did." She glanced at the younger couple as they moved gracefully across the dance floor. "They look good together."

"Yes, they do," Watson replied absently. *'Too good.'* The thought came unbidden and shocked him slightly.

"She cares for him a great deal."

Watson turned. "I know, May, and that's what I'm afraid of. Holmes is..."

"A charmer and a devil at times, but in the long term..." Mrs Hudson trailed off. "It's not for me to speak ill of my tenant."

"Ah, but you're not our landlady tonight. Tonight you are like Cinderella at the ball; you can say whatever you wish until you are home again."

She laughed again. "Mr Holmes isn't the only one who can be charming when he puts his mind to it."

"One tries, my dear, one tries," Watson replied with a smile. Then the expression partly slid from his face. "Look, May."

The couple gazed out to see the other dancers had moved to the edge of the floor, and taking up most of the space now were Holmes and Aggie. She was gently encased in his arms, free to move but still protected, and Watson would have hated for anyone to try and take her from him. Holmes moved extremely gracefully, as the doctor knew he could, but Aggie was more than a match for him, which was a surprise, and together they did indeed look perfect. She was gazing at him with undisguised adoration, he was looking at her with a mixture of pride and fierce protectiveness. And off to the side, Tobias Fox was observing with an expression of green-eyed jealousy. Then, as the music ended and the crowd began to clap the dancers, Aggie took the opportunity to show everyone just what she thought of her new husband. Ignoring all rules of society, she placed her hands on his cheeks, brought his head down, and kissed him. For a moment, Holmes stood still like a statue, much as Watson had done earlier when Mrs Hudson treated him to the same action, but then his hands found Aggie's waist and he gently pulled her to him.

Suddenly Watson turned to Mrs Hudson. "Are we playing a game?" he asked.

"I beg your pardon, Do-...John?"

"I asked if we were playing a game...May. You and I, Holmes and Aggie." He glanced back at his friend. "Although it seems that only you and the young lady know the rules."

Mrs Hudson's expression was smug and just a little bit mysterious. "Isn't that always the way with men and women?"

Watson rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to expect a straight answer. Laughing gently, Mrs Hudson linked her arm through his and rested her cheek lightly on his shoulder as they watched Holmes and Aggie move away from the dance floor.

"You are a most exquisite dancer," Fox said to Aggie as he intercepted the couple.

Holmes did his best not to scowl. The man was like a leech, attaching himself to his 'wife' at every opportunity, and he didn't take notice of subtle, and not so subtle, hints to leave them alone. His entire manner and attitude were beginning to seriously grate on Holmes' nerves and he found himself contemplating the best way to rid the world of the man, and just where he could hide the body without anyone finding it.

"I have had an exceptional teacher, sir," Aggie replied with a demure smile, gazing lovingly at her 'husband'.

"Even an exceptional teacher must have an equally exceptional pupil for the craft to be appreciated properly," Holmes said, noting with a great deal of satisfaction that Fox was now glowering. It seemed the best way to annoy him, if not deter him, was to act like a hopeless fool in love with Aggie, and Holmes was surprised that was becoming easier as the evening wore on.

But then Fox recovered and smiled. "An apt observation, but they do say that a pupil cannot learn everything from simply one teacher." He held his hand out to Aggie. "May I have this dance?"

Aggie glanced at Holmes, who smiled and nodded slightly. "Enjoy yourself, my dear," he said, bending his head to kiss her cheek. Before moving away, he whispered, "I'll be right here if you need me."

Aggie nodded, then allowed Fox to lead her away. Holmes thought he would take the opportunity to scan the crowed, but no one there seemed like a thief, and his attention was soon drawn back to his 'wife' and their host. Then he silently berated himself. It was ridiculous! He was playing a part, nothing more, yet he found his concentration constantly being centred on the young woman who was now enjoying a dance in the arms of another man, and Holmes could not understand why that was. But then, he reasoned, maybe the whole evening had just been a waste of time. Maybe the thieves weren't even there. After all, if they had been, Holmes would have noticed...wouldn't he? Surely he would not have allowed himself to be so distracted. No, that was the only explanation. The thieves were not present. Allowing himself to relax slightly with that realisation, he turned back to the dance floor.

Just in time to see Aggie slap Fox. Holmes cursed himself for his inattention. Hadn't he promised her he would look after her? And there he was daydreaming about non-existent jewellery thieves! Maybe the so-called victims were just careless and they had either lost or misplaced their valuables. Yes, that was it. Then the silence reminded him of what had just happened, with a face like fury, Holmes strode across the floor.

Watson took in the situation with a single glance and turned to Mrs Hudson. "I think we should leave now," he said in a low voice.

She caught the undertone of urgency and nodded. Quietly, they both slipped away, unnoticed by everyone in the room. The carriage ride back to Baker Street was as silent as the journey out had been, but it was surprisingly more comfortable. While she did not hold his hand, Mrs Hudson leant against Watson's shoulder slightly, his cloak draped around her shoulders. Upon arriving home, he helped her out, paid the driver, and unlocked the front door.

"Well, that was an eventful evening," Mrs Hudson said dryly as they stood in the hallway.

"Indeed," Watson agreed, glancing at his pocket watch. "I should get changed before Holmes returns home."

"I'll bring you some supper up, Doctor."

He shook his head. "Holmes will know immediately that something is amiss if you do that." He smiled ruefully. "I'll just have to starve until the morning."

"I'll make sure to cook a few extra rashers of bacon for you," she replied with a fond smile.

Watson's expression wavered, and suddenly the situation became far too uncomfortable for comfort. "Mrs Hudson...May, thank you for coming with me tonight. Your husband...was a very fortunate man."

Mrs Hudson blushed shyly at the genuine compliment. "Thank you...John." She leant forward, one hand resting lightly on his chest, and gently kissed his cheek. "Now, off upstairs with you. Mr Holmes will be home soon, and you're not the only one who has to change."

TBC


	12. After Hours

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Watson was dozing quite happily in his favourite chair by the fire when he heard the front door being closed. Waking up instantly, he readied himself for Holmes' entrance, but the man didn't appear. Watson could hear the quiet tone of voices downstairs, though he couldn't hear what was being said. The minutes drew on, adding together like links in a chain, until the doctor was certain he would fall asleep again if Holmes didn't come upstairs soon. Then another door opened and closed, and the surprisingly heavy footsteps of his friend sounded on the stairs. Closing his eyes, Watson resumed his dozing, which wasn't hard to fake.

Seeing his friend in the chair, Holmes quietly closed the sitting room door and moved swiftly to his room. He longed to take the make-up off and go back to being Sherlock Holmes. The part of Lord Charles Brentwood was far harder to act out than he had anticipated, and during the course of the evening, he had found himself becoming lost in the persona. Now, as the face looking back in the mirror became the more familiar form of his own, Holmes expected his feelings to drop away as well. He was sorely disappointed when they did not, and he started to wonder if he was having some sort of break down, not being able to separate character from self. He would have asked Watson about such a possibility, but the doctor would have seen through the subterfuge instantly.

"Holmes?" Watson called quietly, his voice groggy from sleep.

"In here, Watson. I shall be out in a moment."

"I thought I heard the door go." The doctor stood and stretched his back muscles. Adding more wood to the fire, he turned in the direction of Holmes' room. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"I fear it was a colossal waste of time and energy," the detective replied, coming into the sitting room. "No crime was committed while I was there, nor did I see anyone acting in a suspicious nature."

Watson lit a cigarette, then handed it to Holmes, who flashed him a smile of thanks. "Perhaps the thieves weren't present. The important thing is, where you accepted as Lord and Lady Brentwood?"

"It appeared as if we were."

"Then the next time there is a party, the two of you can attend and catch the criminals there."

But Holmes shook his head. "No. I believe this has all been something of a wild goose chase, Watson."

The doctor seemed surprised. "No thefts?"

"Not one."

"Then where is the watch Mycroft gave you as an enticement to the criminals?"

Holmes' eyes flashed to his wrist, then widened in surprise. "How on earth...?"

"They must be skilled indeed to have evaded detection by you, old man," Watson said in admiration for the thieves.

Holmes jumped to his feet and started to pace. "This is intolerable, Watson! I was in the company of Aggie all evening, and saw little of anyone else, except..." His expression darkened and the doctor knew exactly what his friend was thinking; Tobias Fox.

"Perhaps it simply fell off," he replied, hoping to make Holmes see some sort of reason. It was, Watson realised as he saw the unholy glimpses of a nasty emotion appearing in his friend's eyes, a futile task.

"Doubtful," Holmes told him, standing still in the middle of the room.

"Surely there must have been someone there who may have been responsible. Someone who looked out of place."

"There were two, actually."

"Go on," Watson encouraged him.

But Holmes was silent on the matter for a moment, preferring to simply stand and stare into space. When he did finally speak up, the doctor wasn't at all surprised by his words. "I have to say, Watson, that you and Mrs Hudson made a most enchanting couple."

Watson didn't even so much as blink when he replied. He knew the chances of himself and Mrs Hudson not being spotted by Holmes, as distracted as he was, were about as likely as Holmes actually marrying Aggie for real, under his own free will... The doctor mentally shook his head. Perhaps not the best comparison.

Out loud, he said, "I fear we paled in comparison to you and the lovely Agnes. You positively shined tonight, old man. Easily the most handsome couple at the party."

Holmes scowled. "You should not have been there, Watson!" he exclaimed suddenly, starting to pace again.

Watson sighed. He knew they would cover this topic many times during the night and the next day, and he had already decided how best to handle it. "If you have a problem, Holmes, I suggest you take it up with your brother. It was all his idea, and he left no room for refusal. You should know better than anyone how stubborn he can be."

"Now that is a very underhand tactic to use," the detective scolded his friend. "Here I am, spoiling for an argument, and you diffuse the situation quickly by shifting blame onto dear Mycroft." He shook his head. "It simply won't do, Watson!"

The doctor couldn't help but smile. "Very well, Holmes, what shall we fight about? Or would you rather simply shout at me? That might make you feel better, and because it wouldn't necessarily require me to be awake, I can get a little sleep. It was a very tiring party."

"Informative, though," Holmes replied, sitting down opposite his friend. He stared thoughtfully into the fire and when he spoke again, his tone was deliberately mild and he was obviously attempting to appear merely curious. "What did you make of our host?"

Watson wasn't fooled by Holmes' demeanour for a second, especially not after the expression on his friend's face following the discover of the missing watch. "He seemed rather interested in Aggie, more so than anyone else in the room."

"I do not believe that was what I asked," the detective said sharply.

"No, but it was what you wanted to ask," Watson replied, unperturbed. "You forget, Holmes, I was there, and so was Mrs Hudson. We both saw how he commanded her attention every chance he got, and how...ah...unhappy you were with that arrangement."

Holmes waved his hand. "I was merely acting the part of a jealous husband, and rightly so! We were only married this afternoon..."

"Yesterday," Watson corrected him quietly, looking at the clock that showed a minute past midnight.

"...And this...popinjay," Holmes continued, ignoring his friend, "Was trampling all over the rules of etiquette and propriety by...flirting outrageously with my wife!"

As the detective fell silent, Watson watched his friend carefully. At first, he had found the situation amusing, the idea of Holmes pretending to be a woman's husband convincingly a source of great entertainment to him. Once, of course, he had gotten over the callousness of Holmes' decision to ask a woman he had recently used to play the part of his wife. But, as was in Holmes' nature, change had occurred swiftly and Watson started to see that his friend genuinely cared about Aggie, a sentiment which had grown from the time he was Escott. And now they were supposed to be married, Holmes appeared to be taking the role far more seriously than Watson expected him to. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he would have said that the detective was actually starting to fall for Aggie. Both Watson and Mrs Hudson had seen the couple dancing, the way Holmes held the young woman in his arms, the way she kissed him when the music stopped. Watson in particular had an excellent view of Holmes' face, and it bore an expression the doctor couldn't quite put a name to, but it looked a lot like the fluttering of love's delicate wings, or if not love, then certainly a great deal of affection.

And while Watson certainly wasn't adverse to the notion of his friend falling for a lady, he was quite certain that Holmes would never be able to commit to such an idea in the long term. He might be willing to make an effort in the beginning, but Watson was almost certain it wouldn't last, and then not only would he end up hurting Aggie worse than he had before, he would probably end up hurting himself as well, though Holmes being the man he was wouldn't realise that until much later. Watson was torn between letting Holmes and Aggie work things out themselves and reminding his friend that none of it was real, and finally he settled on the latter. It was, he decided painfully, the lesser of two evils; hurting them both now would save them heartache later.

"Holmes, she isn't actually your wife," Watson pointed out quietly.

Holmes didn't react immediately, but when he did finally look up, the doctor fancied he detected a hint of pain in his expression. "Speak plainly, Doctor. It is too late for beating around the bush," he said with an impatient gesture.

At the risk of incurring his friend's wrath, Watson ploughed on. "You're only playing a part, old man," he continued in a soft tone, hoping to rob his words of any offence they may cause. "When this is all over, Aggie will have to go back to her old life and you will continue with yours. Do not make the mistake of getting so personally involved with a case, as you have warned me about on countless occasions."

During his little speech, Holmes had opened his mouth as if to interrupt, but had thought better of it. Now he sat staring at the doctor, his gaze only a degree or two above freezing. "Have you finished?" he asked.

Watson sighed. "Yes, Holmes, I've finished."

"Good. I thank you for reminding me to keep focussed." He rose abruptly. "Now if you will excuse me, it is rather late...or early, depending on your perception, and I have a lot of work to do later on." Without biding his friend goodnight, Holmes crossed the room swiftly and slammed his bedroom door shut behind himself.

Watson sighed again and rose wearily to his feet. Although his intentions had been born of a good heart, he was now wondering whether it was the right thing to burst the bubble, so to speak, or whether he should have left them to work things out on their own. It was, however, far to late to take the words back now. Making sure the fire was safe, Watson trudged from sitting room and up the stairs to his own room, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, unaware that downstairs, Holmes was about to spend a very restless night as the doctor's words echoed relentlessly around his head.

TBC


	13. Heart Affairs

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

When Watson finally made it downstairs for breakfast in the morning, Holmes was nowhere in sight, and the doctor found himself unsurprised by his friend's absent. Their conversation after Holmes returned from the party hadn't gone at all the way Watson planned, and going to sleep on an argument was the last thing he had wanted. But he knew that once the line had been crossed, there was no going back with Holmes. It would take some time, or a breakthrough on the case, for the detective to forgive his friend. As Watson reached for the paper with one hand and poured himself coffee with the other, he realised he hadn't asked Holmes what the cause of the altercation between Fox and Aggie had been at the party. The young man must have offended her greatly to receive such a slap, though Watson was certain Holmes would just say he had a slappable face.

The door to the sitting room opened and the doctor turned, expecting to see his friend, but not really surprised when Mrs Hudson bustled into the room. "Good morning, Dr Watson," she said as she put some fresh toast on the table.

Watson smiled. "Good morning, Mrs Hudson. How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you. And yourself?"

"Very well."

"Despite your argument with Mr Holmes?" she asked slyly.

Watson shook his head. "How on earth did you know about that?"

Mrs Watson smiled slightly. "Mr Holmes left the house early this morning, and there are only two explanations for such behaviour. Either he has a lead on a case he wishes to follow up, or you two have had an argument."

"A mere difference of opinion," Watson told her. "A simple altercation."

"Hmm," she said, pausing as if debating about whether to say what she was thinking. It was a short debate. "You did not see his face this morning, Doctor. And while Mr Holmes is very good at hiding his emotions, I, like yourself, have became adept at judging his moods over the years. He was quite upset."

"How do you know it was over something I had done?" he asked. "It could have been the incident last night between Aggie and Tobias Fox that is bothering him."

"If that was the case, Dr Watson, Mr Holmes wouldn't have asked Aggie to go walking with him this morning, now, would he?"

"Do you know what caused the incident last night?" Watson asked, hoping to turn the tide of the conversation back in his favour, if it had ever been that way to start with.

Mrs Hudson immediately frowned. "It seems that Mr Fox wanted to spend time with Aggie. Alone. Apparently after she had slapped him, he said that his intentions were entirely honourable and that he thought she would enjoy a tour of the gardens of his estate as they are quite extensive, and that the invitation extended to her husband as well, of course."

"Of course," Watson remarked dryly. "Did Miss Morton happen to tell you how Holmes handled the situation?"

"Like a knight in shining armour," she replied, her tone equally as dry. "Far be it for me to comment on Mr Holmes' methods..."

"...But you're worried about them," Watson finished for her.

Mrs Hudson nodded. "Aye. I am, Doctor."

"Then we are in agreement on something, Mrs Hudson."

"You were right to express your concern last night, Dr Watson," the landlady said after a beat. "Though I suspect Mr Holmes' won't see it that way."

Watson nodded. "I fear you are right, dear lady."

"Don't 'dear lady' me, Doctor," she suddenly scolded him. "Your 'discussion' with Mr Holmes last night kept me awake."

Watson wasn't about to rise to the bait. "I would think that was highly unlikely, as I could still hear you and Aggie talking when I went to bed."

"Such behaviour is unbecoming for a gentleman," Mrs Hudson chastised him in a prim tone.

"Perhaps, but sometimes I find it boring being a gentleman," he replied, mischief lighting his eyes. Then, before Mrs Hudson could wound him with some implement or other, he continued. "Did Aggie say whether she would accept the invitation?"

The landlady immediately frowned again. "I don't mind telling you, Doctor, that I sense a goodly amount of conflict in that girl. If I didn't know any better, I would say she was quite taken with the way Mr Fox treated her last night."

"Despite slapping him?" Watson asked with a smile.

"Despite that. I think she took that course of action to not only remind Mr Fox that she was married, but herself as well."

"What a fascinating observation, Mrs Hudson," Holmes said, startling them both. "Do you always gossip in such a fashion about things that do not concern you? I am only grateful that my charming wife did not overhear you. Speaking of Aggie, Mrs Hudson, she is downstairs and will require breakfast." He smiled briefly. "As will I."

The landlady bristled and blushed at the same time. "My apologies, Mr Holmes," she said in a stiff tone.

"It is of no consequence, dear lady, but only because I am in an exceedingly good mood this morning." He made a dismissive gesture and Mrs Hudson took the hint, but not before rolling her eyes at Watson. The doctor could see she didn't envy him at all, having to put up with Holmes while he was in such a mood.

Watson waited until his friend sat opposite him before speaking. "Look, Holmes, about last night..."

"Pshaw, my dear fellow, nothing to apologise for," Holmes replied airily, dismissing the subject with a flick of his hand.

"I feel there is," Watson said, wondering if the detective had been at the cocaine bottle again.

Holmes sighed. "Watson, sometimes you are like a dog with a bone. Last night, yes, I was mildly irritated with you, and had circumstances occurred differently this morning, I would have wanted that apology. But upon waking, I decided to go for a brisk walk, and was surprised to find Aggie already up and about. When I saw her, I realised you were right. She is not my wife, merely a...a tool, if you will, an aid to my investigation." He looked away. "Though it pains me to admit, even to you, Watson, I do...care...for her. I never thought it was possible for me to care for anyone, at least until I met you." He stared at the dumbfounded doctor. "You see, it is all your fault, really. Had I not met you, I would have continued life shunning all personal interactions, yet suddenly I found myself with a room mate, one I could actually get along with, and who could put up with my, let us say, eccentricities. And before I knew it, I started to...care."

After brief silence, Watson spoke up. "Holmes, old man, I don't know what to say. Should I be apologising, thanking you, or saying 'you're welcome'?"

The detective smiled. "None of the above, dear fellow! Simply continue being John Watson, my trusted Boswell, author of my cases, if a tad romanticised, and...my friend."

"You have my solemn promise, Holmes, to continue being all of those things. Now," he said briskly before the conversation turned to the any more bizarre, "Will you be accepting Tobias Fox's invitation to his manor for a tour of the grounds? And have you gotten any further with the case?"

Just then Mrs Hudson came bustling in, her expression her usual one of harassment. "Will that be all, Mr Holmes?" she asked as she set the fresh breakfast tray on the table.

He gave her his most dazzling smile. "Yes, Mrs Hudson, thank you. It smells divine!" Mrs Hudson just glared back at Holmes, his attempt at charming her bouncing off like an arrow on a suit of plate armour, and left the room without speaking. "Splendid woman," Holmes said, glancing at Watson.

Watson ignored him. "Are you going to answer my questions?"

"Which would they be?"

"Really, Holmes!"

The detective held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I was jesting, Watson. Do not give yourself a coronary so early in the day. To your first question, I will not ask how you knew about the invitation as it is obvious Mrs Hudson will have told you it was the offer which sparked the incident last evening." He poured himself and his friend coffee before continuing. "Aggie and I discussed the invitation while we were walking this morning, and we both agreed that it would be advantageous to the case for us to visit Fox's manor under quieter circumstances. I am still unconvinced that no crime has been committed, despite last night's disappointing yield of clues."

"I suppose that answers my second question, then," Watson said as he ate.

"I fail to see what progress I could have made while walking with my wife this morning."

There was something in the way that Holmes said 'wife' that made Watson become instantly more alert. He suddenly realised that his friend's earlier speech, while possibly being true on some level, was a fabrication, spun to make Watson feel at ease, to stop him from worrying or, more likely, prying. The doctor felt angry and sad at the same time, but he knew Holmes well enough not to press the issue again. The detective had warned him off in a friendly manner, and Watson would heed the caution, but it would not stop him from worrying about both Holmes and Aggie. The doctor knew his friend had no idea what he was truly getting involved in, and his affection for Aggie would blind him to all else; Watson knew this. And if Holmes had Fox arrested and convicted of a crime he did not commit, the consequences would be dire, no more so than for the detective himself.

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, Watson replied to Holmes, "You may have made some progress while you were tossing and turning last night." At his friend's slightly astonished expression, the doctor smile. "Yes, old man, I did hear you."

"It was your fault I slept restlessly," Holmes replied.

"I have already offered an apology," Watson told him.

"Very well, Watson. No, I have made no further progress on the case."

Mrs Hudson knocked on the door and entered. "This just arrived for you, Mr Holmes."

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson." Holmes grabbed the telegram and read it quickly. "Ha! An eager young man."

"What is it, Holmes?" Watson asked.

"A telegram from Mr Tobias Fox, asking myself and my lovely wife to join him this afternoon at his manor for lunch and a stroll around the grounds."

"Holmes, if it came here..."

"No need for alarm, Watson. Mycroft has Lord Brentwood's mail watched carefully at the moment. This telegram will have gone there first, and then forwarded with great speed to me."

"Are you going to...accept the invitation?"

"Of course I am! Now if you will excuse me, I need to speak with Aggie about this." Holmes rose and moved quickly across the room.

Watson didn't watch him go; he was far too preoccupied with a problem that seemed to have grown quite suddenly from very little. And while he was loath to interfere any more in affairs of the heart with Aggie and Holmes, he felt they needed watching. Picking up the newspaper, Watson wondered if Mrs Hudson would be willing to help him.

TBC


	14. Fox Manor

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

The air was clear and the sky bright as Aggie and Holmes made their way to Tobias Fox's manor for lunch. Holmes was quite surprised at the quickness with which Aggie agreed to accepting the invitation. As soon as the detective had read the telegram, his 'wife' smiled.

"When are we leaving?" she had asked, taking Holmes unfortunately by surprise. He had blurted out that he did not think she would be inclined to see Fox so soon after the incident the night before. Aggie had laughed. "The incident is in the past. I'm not about to pass up this opportunity to look around a manor rather than work in one, am I?"

And that was the end of the discussion. Mrs Hudson had made sure that Aggie was properly dressed for the occasion, and had also given her some more lessons on etiquette, and so when Holmes collected his wife, he was once again stunned into silence. It was becoming a regular occurrence, much to his annoyance; it was not something he was comfortable with at all. Something else that was highly disconcerting to him was the onslaught of emotions he had to endure while in Aggie's delightful company. Contrary to what Watson and most of the world thought, Holmes was not oblivious or even immune to the charms of the fairer sex; he just simply did not wish to indulge in their company beyond the requirements of a case, and he was once again reminded of the reasons why as he travelled to Fox Manor with Aggie. She distracted him beyond all reasonable measure and commanded more of his attention than he was sure was proper, yet Holmes could not find suitable cause for complaint. If he was honest, at least with himself, he rather enjoyed Aggie's company. She was a refreshing companion because she wasn't bound by societies constraints in the way that Holmes was, and he found her to be akin to a small hurricane in a bottle, upsetting everything in its path without actually destroying anything. And sometimes he felt so relaxed in her presence, yet others he was reduced to a bumbling idiot, and the detective hated the extremes, preferring to deal in constants.

"What will you do once this case has been concluded?" Holmes asked as they rode down the country lanes.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the detective wished he could take them back as Aggie's sunny disposition disappeared behind the clouds of speech. "Go back to work, Mr Holmes. What do you think I'd be doing?" she replied somewhat waspishly.

Holmes sighed and stared out of the window rather than try to rectify his mistake. After all, Aggie was just a tool in a case; it wasn't like he would have to see her again after he had solved the mystery. But in his mind's eye, Holmes could see Watson's disapproving expression as his thoughts, and the detective sighed again. He should have accepted his friend's offer to attend the damn party in his place. At least then he wouldn't be having all these doubts and feelings he was unaccustomed to and therefore ill equipped to deal with.

"You know, I've changed my mind," Aggie said suddenly. "If this is the real you, I don't want to know. Give me Escott or any other fabrication any time!"

Holmes was stunned, not just by her outburst, but by how much the words stung him. He opened his mouth to retort but found himself hesitating before voicing each thought that came into his head, because he knew if he spoke, he would cause Aggie far more hurt than she had caused him. Unfortunately, his silence hurt her as well.

"Driver, stop the cab!" she yelled, her voice becoming high pitched due to her state of agitation, and Holmes winced as the noise assaulted his sensitive ears.

The driver, used to such outbursts, stopped obediently and merely sat waiting for further instructions. He wasn't overly surprised when Aggie fled from the carriage, or when Holmes said, "Wait here," and took flight after her. After all, he was used to such things.

Holmes, however, was unused to such things, and he found his irritation growing as he lengthened his stride to catch up with Aggie. As he finally caught her, he took her firmly by the elbow and spun her around. "What is the...?"

He never finished because Aggie used the momentum from him turning her to bring her arm round and slap him forcibly across the face. "You're a cad, Mr Sherlock Holmes!" she told him tearfully. "You don't really care about anyone! All you care about is solving this bleedin' case and you'll use anyone and any means to do it. Well, I won't be used any more!" She stormed off, then turned on her heel and stormed back, standing almost toe to toe and nose to nose with him, an admirable feat considering the height difference. "You can work this one out on your own!"

"Aggie, wait!" Holmes called desperately as she started to storm off again.

"Why? I don't owe you nothin', Mr Holmes!" Aggie replied, her accent shining through like a lighthouse beacon on a stormy night. "In fact, *you* owe *me*, and this is how you repay me. You're not even making an effort!"

"I am!" Holmes snapped. "You think this is easy for me, do you? Do you think that I can just find the 'real me', as you put it, and show that man to you? The real me is the detective, the one who works and is brilliant at his job. I am not a man who needs emotions or emotional interactions in my life, save the very rare friendship I share with Dr Watson, and the tenuous relationship I have with my delightful landlady. Now I find myself thrust into the part of a loving husband with absolutely no frame of reference to use, save my own initiative! This part is as difficult to play for me as it is for you."

In the silence that followed, Holmes would have given half of his life, or even his right arm, to be able to go back in time and change everything. He would have ignored the jewellery thefts, opting instead to return to his seven percent solution, despite Watson's reproachful looks and disapproving sighs. He had already changed so much due to doctor's almost constant presence in his life; why should he change everything? If he had taken his morphine instead of reading the paper, the thefts wouldn't have interested him, he wouldn't have been forced to find a wife, he wouldn't have needed Aggie, and therefore would not have upset himself or her any more than their previous encounter had done. Such as it was, however, time travel was not possible and Holmes was rather fond of his right arm.

Tentatively, Aggie lifted her hand. "I'm not going to hurt you, you great oaf," she told him, and Holmes immediately reduced to Escott again, finding comfort in that persona for some unknown reason. Aggie looked at him tenderly, then placed her palm gently against the cheek she had just slapped. "I'm sorry."

"As am I," Holmes caught himself saying. What on earth was the matter with him? "I should never have asked you to become involved in this."

"No, you shouldn't. But you did and nothing can be changed by it now." She leant forward and kissed his cheek. Then she smiled. "Married couples are supposed to argue a lot, you know."

"Indeed," Holmes remarked dryly.

Aggie nodded. "At least we've got that right, if nothing else."

The innuendo in her voice was enough to make Holmes' normally pale complexion turn beetroot in colour. "About the...marriage...joke that my brother pulled, I..."

"I know. It was stupid and if you'd known what he was going to do, you'd never have let him. And I also know that when the time's right, you'll get your own back."

"A person in my position does not resort to such childish behaviour," Holmes replied stiffly. "Although if an army of toads happen to find themselves taking up new residences in each of Mycroft's trouser pockets of all the pairs he owns...well, that would be rather amusing, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Aggie replied aplomb. She peered around him. "The driver is still waiting."

"An excellent chap. Remind me to tip him." Holmes bent his arm and offered his elbow to her. "Shall we?"

"Let's."

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

It did not take Sherlock Holmes long to decide what he detested the most about Tobias Fox. It wasn't so much his unctuous manner or his obvious charm. No, what really irritated the great detective was Fox's face. It was just so slappable, and there in lay the problem because Holmes *couldn't* slap it when he so dearly wished he could. Fox had met them at the front door of his house, and fawned over Aggie for a ridiculous amount of time, flouting all rules of decorum in Holmes face, before turning to the detective. Holmes had already decided that if Fox fawned over him for such a long time, the man would find himself in hospital with extensive injuries and no memory of how they occurred.

Lunch was a surprisingly simple affair, and though the detective would have liked to apply that same label to their host, he could not. Fox, while being many things, was certainly not stupid, and Holmes was not convinced that he was not the culprit the detective was seeking, although he knew Watson thought his conclusions were not only erroneous, but drawn for the wrong reasons. Holmes was realistic enough, though, to know that his judgements were actually slightly coloured by envy; the easy way that Fox interacted with Aggie was something the detective could only dream about.

"This ballroom is actually a somewhat recent addition to the manor," Fox explained as he showed them around his extensive house. "My great-grandfather, William, met my grandmother at a ball, and after they married, they merged several smaller rooms into one large one, creating the ballroom." He smiled. "It was a source of great amusement to their few friends because they were known for being rather reclusive, and so the only people who used the room were my great-grandfather and -grandmother."

Aggie smiled politely back. "I am quite certain they enjoyed themselves immensely."

She glanced to her left to see if Holmes would add anything to the discussion, but the detective had wandered off to the other side of the room. Irritation surged through Aggie, but she forced herself to remain calm and reminded herself that Holmes was there to solve a case. While she had never actually seen the great detective at work, save for when he was Escott, she had read some of the stories published in The Strand, and from the writings gleamed that Holmes was part bloodhound. Now, as Aggie looked at her 'husband', she guessed from his posture that he was onto something, she did the only thing she could to help him; she kept Fox occupied.

"Tell me about these paintings," she said, pointing to the walls. "They are absolutely fascinating." Which translated to 'They look bloody awful. Who painted them? A blind man with no hands?'

Fox, however, must have thought they were true works of art because he launched into a lengthy explanation and before ten words had left his mouth, Aggie was certain her ears would soon start bleeding. Though he was a distance away, Holmes could hear ever word spoken and he winced at the man's tone. He knew Aggie hated the pictures because she had told him so the previous night while they had been dancing, and he knew that she had only asked Fox to keep all of his attention on her, but why she would do such a thing, he wasn't quite sure. It was either because she *wanted* his attention, or because she thought she was helping the detective. Holmes chose to believe the latter, and if that was the case, he was grateful. Something had caught his eye the moment he had walked into the ballroom, but to make a beeline for the item would have looked far too suspicious. Instead, he started to stroll round at a leisurely pace, and when he reached his destination, made a show of tying his shoe lace. A pitiful ploy, but with Aggie commanding all of Fox's attention, it didn't really matter. The item Holmes had spotted found its way into his pocket, but rather than helping to solve the case, it confused him more, and so when Fox asked if they would like to tour the gardens, Holmes readily agreed, thinking a breath of fresh air would clear his mind.

By the time they had reached the end of the first path, the detective knew that wasn't going to be the case. He had already smoked all the cigarettes he had brought with him, and with no tobacco to help him think, he was growing rapidly short-tempered. Coupled with the fact that their host didn't seem to understand the concept of 'shut up', Holmes knew he would snap before long. But in the distance he saw a building which they seemed to be heading towards, and if it was what the detective thought it was, he knew he might well calm down after all.

The gardens of Fox Manor were as extensive as the house, and all perfectly maintained. Not a weed in sight, not a bush out of shape, and Holmes took the time to appreciate the beauty and the skill involved in something like that. He was so absorbed with the plants that when Aggie slipped her hand into his, she startled him.

"Are you enjoying yourself, darling?" she asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," he replied, squeezing her hand. Which translated to 'No. Can I kill him now?' "And you, my dear?"

"It is...interesting, but far too large for me."

Fox, having overheard the comment, laughed. "Brentwood is classed as a mansion, is it not?" he asked with a broad smile as he attempted a stab at humour.

"Yes," Holmes replied flatly.

"I always thought a mansion was larger than a manor," Fox continued obliviously. "If I didn't know better, Lady Brentwood, I would say you are making fun of my humble home."

"I meant no slight against your beautiful house, Mr Fox," Aggie replied smoothly, letting go, reluctantly, of Holmes hand so she could properly mollify their host. Holmes, rolling his eyes, strode ahead to the building.

As soon as they entered the stables, the detective. felt himself relaxing. Of all the animals that inhabited God's fair green earth, the great detective was most at ease with horses above even, and especially, people. There was something indescribable about them; gentle yet powerful, noble yet humble. When he told Mycroft he would be to impersonating the famous race horse breeder, trainer and owner, Lord Charles Brentwood, Holmes couldn't have imagined a more pleasant chore. And now, surrounded by such magnificent beasts, he was truly in his element.

"Mostly I keep them for riding," Fox was saying as he escorted Aggie through the stables. She had accepted his arm when Holmes had wandered off, seemingly in a trance, and now she watched him curiously as he stroked the face of the nearest horse. "Though some I hope to breed from and sell the foals to the race circuit."

"Have you had any luck yet?" Aggie asked politely, not out of any real interest.

Fox shook his head. "I acquired a fine young stallion, but he's far too highly strung to breed from. It's a shame because he is an absolutely stunning specimen."

At the far end of the stable, Holmes was now out of earshot and glad of it. Fox's almost constant rambling since their arrival was making him seriously consider acts of violence that would shock even the veterans at Scotland Yard, but Aggie seemed to be enjoying the young man's company, and that made Holmes both glad and irritated.

His musings were interrupted by a distressed noise coming from the last stall, followed by the nervous pawing of a hoofed foot on the ground. Slowing his pace, Holmes came to a stop at the edge of the stall before peering cautiously around at its occupant. Inside was a midnight black stallion, its coat gleaming in the sunlight. It was prancing around skittishly, its eyes wild, darting everywhere, not resting its gaze on anything for longer than a few seconds.

"I wouldn't go too near him, Lord Brentwood," Fox called in a quiet voice. "He's extremely highly strung." As he approached Holmes, he let go of Aggie's arm, effectually relinquishing her to her husband. "I've had the best trainers from all over the country down here to have a look at him, and they have all said he's no good."

"Mason said that you had called upon his services," Holmes remarked, glad that Mycroft had supplied him with the name of Brentwood's main trainer."

Fox nodded. "A fine man. You're lucky to have him in your employment." He then turned to Aggie to continue the conversation. "I doubt we'll even be able to ride him."

Aggie was staring at the great beast with no small amount of trepidation. "What will you do?"

"More than likely have him put down," Fox said sadly. "If I can't ride him and I can't breed from him, there isn't much point in keeping him, I'm afraid."

Holmes had fallen silent as he listened to their host carefully. Even now, as he removed his top hat and gloves and laid them carefully on the floor, he didn't speak, not even as he walked slowly to the gate and unlatched it.

"Lord Brentwood, I really don't think that is a good idea," Fox said, the concern obvious in his voice. "He's a dangerous horse."

Holmes ignored him and walked into the stall, the stallion still acting skittishly. Without looking it in the eyes, the detective began to speak in a low voice. Neither Aggie nor Fox could hear what was being said, but the horse could and it stopped moving suddenly to stare at the intruder who had entered its territory, attempting to ascertain whether it was friend or foe. With a steady hand, he reached up and stroked the horse's flank, feeling its muscles quivering under his touch. Still he talked to it, keeping his gaze averted from the horse's, and slowly, the shaking stopped. It stood rock-still, and Holmes finally moved his hand to its face, allowing his head to lift until their eyes met.

"There. Is that not much better?" he asked it, scratching it between the eyes, causing it to whinny in pleasure. Then Holmes rested his forehead against the horse's. "What is his name?"

Fox, who was staring in shock and admiration, took a moment to realise Holmes was talking to him. "His name?" he repeated rather stupidly.

"Yes."

Fox hesitated, and Aggie saw he was actually blushing a little. "Bane."

Holmes broke eye contact with the now placid horse and looked at Fox. "Yes, I can see how one would wish to name him that."

"When we realised he was so much...ah, trouble, we didn't think there was much point in giving him a more..." Fox struggled to find the right words.

"Indeed," Holmes said, returning his attention to the horse.

"Is he...I mean, can we...?"

"Bane is 'cured', so to speak," Holmes replied. "One simply needs the right attitude when dealing with such a magnificent creature."

Fox scowled slightly at the unintentional rebuke in the detective's voice. "Well, you have my sincere gratitude, Lord Brentwood."

Holmes didn't reply. Aggie had moved a distance away and was watching the detective with a great amount of curiosity. His treatment of the horse was real, she could tell; he wasn't acting in the slightest, and she wondered how such a man could be so solicitous with an animal, yet be so cold and distant with people. She *knew* that underneath his brash exterior was a kind and gentle man, but how to bring that man to the surface was a task she wasn't quite cut out for, she was discovering. Aggie dearly wanted to be that person, because the love she felt for Escott had been real for her. Escott was a part of Holmes, and a part of her wondered if it was possible to love the great detective as well. But now she wasn't too sure.

"I don't wish to be rude, Lady Brentwood, but I was under the impression that your husband was a lot more...sociable," Fox said delicately as he came to stand alongside her.

Aggie nodded, furiously thinking of a reply. "Marriage changes men sometimes."

Fox took the unintentional hint and moved away from her. "Yes. I am certain that it does. However I have never had the pleasure of a lady I can call my wife."

"Has no one come close?" Aggie asked.

"Only one, but she belongs to another," Fox replied, still staring at Holmes and Bane but not actually seeing them. Then, with a shake of his head, his melancholy lifted and he was once again a charming host. "I'm having another party tomorrow night, the height of the social calendar apparently. I would very much appreciate it if you both could attend."

A quick glance at Holmes' expression told Aggie all she needed to know. "We would be delighted, Mr Fox."

TBC


	15. Important Discovery

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Watson had just finished his discussion with Mrs Hudson – she agreed to talk with Aggie and find out precisely what her motives were regarding Holmes – when Mycroft appeared.

"If you're looking for your brother, sir, I'm afraid he is out at present," Watson told the older Holmes.

Mycroft shook his head. "It is not Sherlock I am after, Doctor, but rather your good self."

Watson gestured to a chair. "Please."

"Thank you." As Mycroft heaved his considerable bulk into Watson's favourite armchair, the doctor found himself wondering, not for the first time, how on earth the two of them had the same parents. The only similarities between them were their intelligence and their rather hawk-like noses.

"How can I assist?" Watson asked as he lit a cigarette.

"Tobias Fox is having another party tonight and according to the society grapevine, this promises to be the biggest even of the social calendar. I know that Fox will have already extended an invitation to Sherlock and Agnes, and that my brother will most definitely accept."

Watson looked surprised. "How did...?" He broke off and shook his head. "Never mind."

Mycroft chuckled. "I would have thought that so many years of living with my brother would have removed all capability of shock from you, Doctor."

"I should think that if I ever lose that feeling, Mycroft, I would be dead," he replied with a smile.

"Indeed. Anyway, the reason for my visit while Sherlock is otherwise engaged was to give you an invitation to the party tonight and..."

"He knows," Watson interrupted.

Mycroft seemed completely unfazed. "Yes, I rather thought he might. No matter. I would still like you and Mrs Hudson to attend, if you would oblige."

"Of course. I will talk with Mrs Hudson, but I am almost certain she will agree."

"Excellent." Mycroft stood and crossed the room, but turned in the doorway. "How does Sherlock seem to you, Doctor?" he asked somewhat cautiously.

Watson's reply was equally as guarded. "In what way?"

"Should I expect some manner of childish revenge for the, ah, accidental marriage?"

"More than likely."

Mycroft sighed. "We may not seem the closest of brothers, Dr Watson," he said seriously. "Indeed, sometimes you and Sherlock are more like family than he and I are. But our family has never dealt well with any sort of emotion or closeness, as you no doubt have noticed. That, however, does not mean that I do not care. I saw the way Sherlock reacted when Miss Agnes walked into the room after Mrs Hudson had worked her magic, and I can tell you with all honesty that he has never reacted that way to *anyone* before. He is fond of her, anyone can see that, but I do not want to see her hurt just because my brother thinks of her as some sort of...experiment. By the same token, I do not wish to see Sherlock hurt when Agnes realises she cannot be married to a man like my brother." He smiled slightly. "After all, what sane woman would want to put up with his antics? Or any sane person, for that matter?"

"I am certain Mrs Hudson would enjoy you questioning her sanity," Watson replied. "As for my own, I'm sure I lost it a long time before I started living with Holmes." His expression turned thoughtful. "Yes, your brother is fond of Aggie, and while he assures me she is merely the means to an end and that he has no intent of hurting her, I cannot help but wonder differently. I have never seen Holmes react the same to anyone either, but whether he is simply playing a part, I really can't say for sure. But I will keep an eye on the both of them. I don't want to see them hurt either."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mycroft said gruffly. With that, he turned on his heel and left.

As it turned out, Watson didn't need to go looking for Mrs Hudson; she came to him. "Is there a problem, Dr Watson?" she asked as she came in with the tea tray.

As she put it down, he took her hand gently and stared into her eyes as lovingly as he could manage. "We're needed again, May," he said quietly.

Mrs Hudson looked at him for a long moment before yanking her hand from his and whacking him none too lightly on the arm. "Really, Doctor," she scolded him. "I think living with Mr Holmes has been a bad influence on you!"

Watson simply smiled beatifically as she left the room. He knew his behaviour was most unacceptable, but it was just so much fun to ignore society's rules for a while. He was still smiling behind the newspaper when Holmes returned.

"Any luck, Holmes?" he asked.

"Hmm?" the detective replied absently.

Watson shook his head. "How was Fox Manor in the day time?"

"I prefer during darkness hours," Holmes muttered. "Or not at all." He then turned to his friend. "Aggie and I have been summoned there again this evening."

"Yes, I know," Watson said, sensing there was little point in lying. "Mycroft called not long ago to give myself and Mrs Hudson an invitation to this party as well, so at least you won't be on your own, old chap."

Holmes smiled properly, the first one Watson had seen in a while. "I must admit, I will feel more at ease knowing my trusted Boswell is present."

"Anything I can do to help, Holmes, you know that." The doctor smiled back, Mycroft's words about brothers echoing slightly in his ears.

"Actually, there is something you can do."

"Tell me."

"Would you mind simply listening? I find myself greatly confused by this case, which seemed so simple at first, and I now admit that perhaps my...feelings towards Tobias Fox have clouded my judgement."

"I am all ears, Holmes," Watson said, folding his paper and putting it on the floor, crossing his legs and lighting a cigarette.

"There has been a series of jewellery thefts across London," Holmes started, sitting cross-legged in his chair as was his custom. "But no one can identify the thieves, or even be certain precisely when the items have been taken. All we know for certain is that the items are lost by the wealthy of the city and presumably at lavish parties they attend."

"That seems logical," Watson murmured. He had lived with Holmes long enough to know exactly when comments would be appreciated, even if he simply agreed with the detective.

"Then we come across one Mr Tobias Fox, a wealthy young man whose parties are the highlight of everyone's social calendar, even if they occur every single night."

Watson chuckled. "It does seem that way."

"It seems logical to assume that if the thieves are going to steal more jewellery, they will be at his parties. Yet last night there was absolutely no one in attendance who looked remotely like a thief, and although I know you think I was rather distracted I can assure you, Watson, that I noticed everything."

"I never had any doubt you wouldn't, old man."

Holmes smiled briefly. "Yet when I returned last night, you pointed out to me that the watch I was wearing as bait had indeed been taken. And then, today, I found these in Fox's ballroom." From his pocket, the detective removed a beautiful string of pearls.

"Aggie's necklace," Watson said, leaning forward. Then he looked at his friend. "In the ballroom?"

Holmes nodded and passed the item to his friend. "I never even noticed it was missing last night, and neither did Aggie, or if she did, she certainly didn't tell me."

"If she had known, she would have told you."

"Precisely."

"But what was it doing in the ballroom?" Watson asked, handing the necklace back.

"Simply lying on the floor, Watson, if you can believe that," Holmes replied, hanging the pearls on the mantelpiece. "Lying there! Can you believe it?"

"It certainly doesn't sound like any theft I've ever heard of," the doctor admitted.

"Precisely my point, Watson!" Holmes exclaimed. "As absurd as it may sound to you, I believe the necklace simply...fell off."

Watson stared incredulously. "Fell off?" he repeated.

"When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Holmes began to fill his pipe.

"That may explain the necklace, Holmes, but what about your watch?"

"I am certain that mystery will solve itself in time also."

"And Tobias Fox?" Watson asked.

Holmes frowned slightly. "I still think he is a most disagreeable young man, but I cannot see him as a thief."

"What about Aggie?"

"How about a little music before we ready ourselves for the party?" Holmes asked, leaping from his seat and picking his Stradivarius up. All Watson could do was nod in reply.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Watson felt ill at ease as he once again readied himself for a night of frivolity with people half his age and younger, but at least he had Holmes to talk to as they waited for the ladies. Though the detective was once again in guise of Lord Brentwood, his voice was still his own and he chatted to Watson about all the things he wanted him to look for, most of which the good doctor already knew, but the constant chatter seemed to help Holmes stay calm. What he had to be worked up about, however, Watson did not know, though he could guess; the young lady downstairs the detective was actually married to. Though Holmes hadn't breathed a word about the incident since it occurred – Watson simply could not believe the marriage had only been the day before – the doctor knew Mycroft's prediction would become true eventually; Holmes *would* exact his revenge, but in the most gentlemanly like manner, and afterwards he would dismiss his involvement with an air of innocence that would fool almost anyone except those who knew him extremely well.

However, Watson had no time to expand on his theories as Mrs Hudson announced, rather loudly from the bottom of the stairs, that Aggie was ready to leave. Holmes jumped to his feet and bounded down to the hallway, tossing a casual, "See you later, Watson!" back up after him. The doctor then heard his friend say, "Mrs Hudson, you look even more magnificent than you did last night."

Watson couldn't but chuckle to himself. While Mrs Hudson was rather well immune to Holmes' charms, she still accepted the unabashed flattery when he chose to give it. The doctor walked to the window and watched as Holmes' solicitously helped Aggie into the hansom, wondering if Mrs Hudson had managed to talk to the young woman upon her return from Fox Manor or not.

"I should have you arrested for neglecting your duties as a loving husband."

At Mrs Hudson's voice, Watson turned, resolving himself not to ask exactly what duties he was supposed to undertake. His eyes, however, almost popped out of his head quite uninvited when he saw his landlady.

"Mrs Hudson...May...you..." He swallowed. "Holmes was right, you do look magnificent."

Mrs Watson blushed. "Thank you, John. Now, our cab is waiting."

"Are we leaving so soon after Holmes and Aggie?" Watson asked in surprise.

"It does not matter when we arrive at the party, Dr Watson, because no one knows that you and Mr Holmes are acquainted."

"I see," he said, feeling slightly foolish. Then he straightened and gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Holmes had noticed a change in his companion's mood and behaviour since their return to Baker Street earlier that day, but he could not for the life of him understand why. Aggie had been in high spirits as they left Fox Manor, chatting away quite amicably about anything and everything and expressing her interest in returning to the manor that evening. Holmes knew she was enjoying her role, and if the truth was told, he found himself glad of that. It was so much easier for him to play *his* role if his opposite was having as much fun as he was. But now Aggie seemed withdrawn and quiet, much like she had when Holmes had first brought her back to Baker Street to aid him and he wondered what precisely had occurred in the short few hours she had been out of his sight. The only explanation was Mrs Hudson, and the detective resolved to question his landlady as soon as the opportunity arose.

As they exited the hansom and walked into Fox Manor, Aggie became more and more tense, and then when she saw the ballroom full of people, her face paled and she froze. "I don't think I can do this any more, Mr Holmes," she said, her voice trembling as much as her body.

Holmes was about to issue a sharp rebuke instinctively when he saw her expression and somewhat surprisingly, naturally, he reached for her hand. "Look at me, Agnes," he murmured quietly, using her proper name. "You look beautiful and no one would ever dare to dream that you do not belong here." He smiled, though it was something of an effort. "You will be fine, and I will be right here beside you."

Aggie stared at him. "You'll look after me?" she asked.

Holmes nodded, seemingly unaware of the potential pitfall she had laid before him. "I will look after you. I promise."

Aggie smiled weakly and took a deep breath to calm herself. Holmes was about to speak again when he saw Tobias Fox making his way over to them. "Ah, Lord and Lady Brentwood, I am so pleased you could join us this evening!" he gushed, then frowned when he looked at Aggie's pale face. "I say, my dear, are you alright? Forgive me for saying this, but you look like you've seen a ghost."

"My wife is a little under the weather," Holmes replied quietly. "Something she ate at lunch, I feel."

Fox looked mortified. "I am so very sorry, I have no idea what it could have possibly been."

"I have a delicate stomach," Aggie said. "Please, Mr Fox, do not worry yourself."

"You must call me Tobias, please. There will be a doctor and his good wife in attendance tonight, so if you feel unwell at any time, just let me know and I will fetch him."

Aggie smiled. "I will, thank you."

Fox smiled back. "Now if you will excuse me, Lord Brentwood, Lady Brentwood, I must coddle some of my more...ah, demanding guests, shall we say?" He gave them both a fluid bow and moved gracefully away.

"What ever is the matter, Aggie?" Holmes asked as he led her towards an empty table so they could sit down for a while.

"It's nothing, Mr Holmes," Aggie replied, slipping back into her natural accent.

Her answer came a little too quickly and the detective wasn't fooled at all. "It must be something to have you so flustered. Tell me."

"I can't!" she said, wringing her hands. "It's something I've got to decide by myself." She looked at him sincerely. "You *can't* help me."

Though Holmes was reluctant to let the matter drop, he nodded in acquiescence. "Very well. Do you wish to dance?" he asked, and Aggie shook her head. Sensing he wouldn't get much more out of her for a while, he contented himself with sitting in silence and people-watching, though his mind was turning over the problem of Aggie. He had a fairly good idea what it was she had decide; he was, after all, a detective, and deduction was like second nature to him. And if Holmes was correct, which he usually was, it meant he also had some deciding to do as well.

His musings were interrupted by the impending approach of Fox, but it wasn't their host that caught Holmes' attention; it was the guests he had in tow. "Lord Brentwood, Lady Brentwood, may I introduce Dr and Mrs Anstow?" he said with a bow.

Holmes stood and helped Aggie to her feet. "A pleasure, Dr Anstow," he said, shaking hands with Watson. "Lord Charles Brentwood. And this is my wife, Agatha."

Watson bowed low and kissed the back of Aggie's hand. "Charmed, Lady Brentwood. John Anstow, and this is my wife, May."

Holmes bowed low and kissed the back of Mrs Hudson's hand. "Charmed, Mrs Anstow."

Fox seemed oblivious to the fact that the four of them were trying hard not to laugh at their absurd performance. "This is the good doctor I was telling you about, Lord Brentwood, so should your wife feel particularly ill..."

"I would, of course, be glad to be of assistance if I can, but you should know that I am retired," Watson said with a smile.

"Recently retired," Mrs Hudson corrected, linking her arm through his comfortably.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Still, I feel it bears mentioning."

"I'm sure you are still more than capable, Dr Anstow," Fox said. "If you'll excuse me." He bowed and left them again.

Holmes sidled up to Watson and murmured quietly, "Anstow?" in an amused tone.

"I thought it was rather good," Watson replied defensively.

"Lord Brentwood, kindly leave my husband alone or I may be called upon to defend *his* honour," Mrs Hudson told Holmes firmly, using her best 'do not do that again' landlady's voice, the one that came out when he had been indulging in target practice at three in the morning.

But Holmes didn't reply; his gaze was stuck to Fox, who had just moved swiftly through the crowd to greet a newcomer. "Watson," he said, his tone conveying all his intentions, and instinctively, the doctor moved in closer and began to follow the detective.

Mrs Hudson watched the two men sneak off, sighed and shook her head. "You know, my dear, they're little boys at heart, no matter how old they are. Don't ever let them try and fool you into thinking differently." When Aggie didn't reply, she turned to look at her and was surprised to see tears in the young woman's eyes. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, you were right, Mrs Hudson!" Aggie sobbed quietly. "You were right!"

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

"Holmes, what are we looking for?" Watson murmured as they made their way through the crowd.

"Simply keep your eyes on Fox, my good man," Holmes replied. "Ah!" He swung his hand out, hitting Watson in the chest. "Wait."

As they watched, Fox took the newcomer's hand in both of his and proceeded to shake it profusely. Then, after a few moments, they moved off and Holmes, with the quickness of grace of a seasoned dancer, moved quickly to the spot where they had been stood and Watson struggled to keep up with him. He had just reached his friend's side in time to see Holmes pocket at least one shiny item, and for some inane reason, the image of a magpie came to the good doctor's mind.

"Watson, I think we have stayed as long as we need to," Holmes said.

"But we've only just arrived!" his friend protested.

"It does not matter."

"Think of the ladies, Holmes," Watson warned him. "They will *not* be happy to learn they made all these preparations for nothing."

Holmes opened his mouth, then closed it again. "You are right." He checked his pocket watch. "We can stay for a half hour more, but then we really must leave. I have gleaned all the information I need to solve this case."

"Holmes, you cannot seriously think that Tobias Fox is a thief."

"This is not the time and place for explanations." He turned and started to walk back towards the ladies, but stopped suddenly.

Watson, unfortunately, walked straight into his back. "Good God, man, we need to fit you with a warning system! What is it now?"

When his friend didn't reply, the doctor peered around Holmes' inert body to see what the problem was. It wasn't difficult to ascertain; Mrs Hudson stood with her arm around Aggie, who was crying, and Fox, who seemed to have miraculously materialised by her side, was offering her his clean, well-pressed handkerchief. Watson looked up at Holmes and was surprised to see his face was completely expressionless; he was neither angry nor upset with the situation. He was completely indifferent, like the Holmes of old, and Watson found himself feeling ever so slightly glad. Then Lord Brentwood took over and Holmes strode to the small congregation.

"My dear Agatha, whatever is the matter?" he asked in a concerned voice.

Aggie looked up and for a brief moment, Watson thought she was going to continue to cling to Mrs Hudson. But then she remembered the role she was supposed to be playing and ran to him. "Oh, Charles!" Finally, the crying subsided and she turned to them. "I am so sorry, you must think me such a goose."

"Not at all, Lady Brentwood," Fox said, genuine concern etched on his handsome features. "Are you sure you are alright? I do hate to see anybody distressed, especially such a fair a maiden as yourself."

Holmes resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but Watson found himself in complete agreement with his friend, and it seemed Mrs Hudson shared their sentiment as well. Aggie, however, blushed beautifully at the comment.

"Thank you, Mr Fox."

"I think I should take my wife home," Holmes said.

"If you should like, Lord Brentwood, my wife and I can accompany you, especially if the young lady has been ill," Watson offered.

"Thank you, Dr Anstow, that is most generous of you."

Fox didn't object to their abrupt departure but insisted on seeing them to the door. "Please let me know how Lady Brentwood is tomorrow, won't you?" he asked Holmes.

For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, as if the detective was trying to ascertain something about the young man. Then he nodded. "Of course. My deepest regrets for having to leave so soon after arriving."

"Please, no apologies are necessary. You must take care of your wife." Fox held his hand out and Holmes took it without hesitation. "Dr Anstow, Mrs Anstow," he said with a bow, then his eyes locked with Aggie's. "Lady Brentwood."

Watson noted how the name seemed to stick in his throat, and he also noticed how Fox stood watching the carriage until they were out of the view of the manor. But more interesting than that was the way Aggie seated herself so she could stare out of the back window, her attention clearly elsewhere.

TBC


	16. Startling Find

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

The mood of the two couples as they exited the carriage at Baker Street was somewhat subdued. It was obvious Holmes was preoccupied with the case, while Aggie was preoccupied with Holmes and something – or someone – else, and Watson and Mrs Hudson were preoccupied with them both.

As they entered the house, Aggie gave them all a wan smile. "I know it's early, but I'm going to bed."

"Are you certain you are well?" Holmes asked, though Watson could see his concern was only half-hearted; the rest of his attention was already on something else, and the doctor was certain Aggie had noticed as well.

By the way she smiled at him, she had. "I'm fine, Mr Holmes. Thank you. Good night." Then she looked at me. "Doctor Watson."

If Watson was just a few years younger, he would have slapped Holmes around the back of the head and then showed him how a proper gentleman and husband acts by marrying Aggie himself. She was a sweet girl, if a little naïve, but she had plenty of time to grow into herself. Holmes, however, remained oblivious to the potential benefits of having a woman around permanently, and any he had made to his character in order to impress Aggie, or to simply keep her happy, were quickly beginning to erode away, leaving the great thinking machine that had always been in their place.

"Good night, my dear," Watson replied with a gentle smile.

At least Holmes had the good grace to wait until the ladies had retired before bounding up the stairs. Watson followed at a more stately pace, once again marvelling the quickness of the change which had come over his friend. Back at Fox Manor, he had seemed genuinely concerned by Aggie's emotional state, but by the time they had arrived back at Baker Street, all traces of sympathy had gone from his character, and Watson could see it was no act either.

Holmes was already in his room removing his make-up when the doctor finally entered the sitting room. "I shan't be a minute, Watson!" he called. "Be a good chap and check the fire, will you?"

Watson did that, lit a cigarette, poured himself a brandy, then sat down. Even though they had only been gone a couple of short hours, it felt like it had been an extremely long day. "What on earth was that all about tonight, Holmes?"

"I do believe that Lord Brentwood can have his face back very soon," Holmes said jovially as he came into the room.

"That does not answer my question."

Holmes waved his comment aside. "All in good time, my dear Watson." He checked the time. "I think I will pay a call on dear brother Mycroft. I am certain he will be interested to hear my news. Don't wait up for me, old chap!"

Watson had opened his mouth to speak but by the time the words had formed properly in his mind, he found himself staring at an empty space where he could have sworn Holmes was stood a moment ago. The front door slammed shut and the doctor closed his mouth again. Even if he went to the window to shout at Holmes, the detective would be long gone by the time Watson had crossed the room. Whatever he was going to say would simply have to wait.

Not long after the detective's departure, however, there was a tap on the sitting room door. "Come in."

Mrs Hudson appeared, closing the door behind her, and made her way directly to the couch, most unusual behaviour for their landlady. "I presume that was Mr Holmes going out," she said dryly.

Watson nodded. "It was. And no, I have no idea when he will be back."

"As long as he has his keys and doesn't make too much noise when he comes in, it doesn't matter."

"How is Aggie?"

"Sleeping. Confused," Mrs Hudson said.

"Why was she so upset at the party?" Watson asked.

"I fear that may have been my doing, Doctor."

"You spoke to her?"

Mrs Hudson nodded. "This afternoon, just like you asked."

Watson looked expectantly at her. "And?"

"Well..."

*When Aggie returned from Fox Manor with Holmes, she was humming, and Mrs Hudson didn't need to be a famous detective to know what that meant; she was preoccupied, probably with a man, but the question was, which one?

"Did you enjoy your afternoon, dear?" she asked as she started to prepare dinner for them all.

"Yes, actually, I did. Quite surprised, to be perfectly honest," Aggie replied. "After Mr Fox's behaviour the other night..."

"You did seem quite eager to see him again," Mrs Hudson pointed out rather bluntly.

Aggie blushed. "I only thought it would help Mr Holmes' investigation, that was all."

The landlady noticed she still called the detective 'Mr Holmes' and she took that to be a good sign, but for whom? "And did it?"

"I don't rightly know," Aggie replied with a slight frown. "He didn't tell me."

Mrs Hudson chuckled. "Even Dr Watson isn't always privy to the workings of Mr Holmes' plans, so don't feel too badly."

Aggie gave a simple 'hmm' in reply. For a while there was silence in the kitchen, broken by the occasional sound of a knife chopping vegetables. From upstairs they could hear the muted sounds of Holmes, presumably, walking about and talking to Watson, then, sometime later, the melancholic sounds of the violin drifted downstairs.

Sensing this was as good a time as any, Mrs Hudson stopped her preparations for dinner, wiped her hands on her apron and turned to her companion. "Aggie, there's something I must ask you before this thing goes any further."

Aggie frowned. "What do you mean, Mrs Hudson?"

"I know you had feelings for the character of Escott that Mr Holmes made up," the landlady started without preamble. "But I also think that young Mr Fox has made an impression on you. I can understand your attachment to Mr Holmes, but the character that you fell in love with is only a small part of the man. He is charming, generous and polite, but he is also more difficult than an army to manage at times. He will never change."

"He might," Aggie said defensively. "If he meets the right woman."

Mrs Hudson smiled gently at her. "I used to think that was possible, but I have seen Mr Holmes interact with a great many different women, and none have caused a continuous spark of interest." She patted Aggie's hand. "And what about Mr Fox?"

"What about him?" the young woman asked sulkily.

"He is quite handsome."

"I'm married to Mr Holmes."

"But not permanently."

The words hung in the air, which itself was charged with tension, then slowly, Aggie began to cry. "I wanted him to be my Escott so much! I really hoped he could change, and he even promised to try. And I believed him!"

Mrs Hudson moved around the table quickly, sat next to Aggie and put an arm around her shoulders. "There, there." Inadequate words, but she could think of nothing else to say. She had *known* something like this would happen, as had the good doctor, but despite their best combined efforts, there would be more hurts and more tears shed before the end.

"Mr Fox looked so much like Mr Holmes, and my Escott, only younger. And he was so kind and he flattered me so sincerely," Aggie said between sobs.

"This marriage between you and Mr Holmes is accidental, you know that," Mrs Hudson told her. "As soon as Mr Holmes has no more need for the persona of Lord Brentwood, Mr Mycroft will have the marriage annulled."

"And then I can go back to working as a maid," Aggie murmured somewhat bitterly.

Mrs Hudson smiled. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of letting Mr Fox know you are actually eligible for marriage."

"Mrs Hudson!" Aggie looked up, extremely shocked. "That's a leap, ain't it?"

"Not really," the landlady replied, still smiling. "I saw the way he was with you last night. Yes, Mr Fox is a charmer and a lady's man, but his attention towards you was completely genuine."

Aggie was suddenly silent as she recalled part of the conversation from earlier that day.*

"Marriage changes men sometimes," she said.

"Yes. I am certain that it does. However I have never had the pleasure of a lady I can call my wife," Fox replied, moving away from her.

"Has no one come close?" Aggie asked.

"Only one, but she belongs to another," Fox said in a distant tone.

*'Could it be...?' Aggie wondered silently. Was she the 'one'? It was an awfully big leap but now she thought about it, it would certainly explain his behaviour during that discussion. And Holmes...Holmes had been more comfortable with the horses than with Fox or her, even though she was supposed to be his wife. Aggie didn't expect them to be joined at the hip, but a little more attention would have been welcome. But still, she had a duty to perform, at least for now...

"That may be true, Mrs Hudson," Aggie said eventually. "But until this is all over, Mr Holmes is still my husband and I prefer to hold out for the hope that he can change." Her tone indicated she would prefer the conversation to be over and Mrs Hudson bowed to her wishes, sensing pushing the subject wouldn't do any good.*

For a long time, Watson simply sat in silence. "Oh," he said eventually.

"At the party tonight, Aggie suddenly started crying and she said, 'Oh, you were right, Mrs Hudson! You were right!' and that was when you and Mr Holmes came back to us, just before we left," the landlady explained.

"You were right that Holmes won't, or can't, change," Watson stated.

Mrs Hudson nodded. "As soon as something regarding the case came up, you were both gone." She fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Forgive me for saying so, Doctor, but out of the two of you, you are definitely a better prospect for marriage, but if you abandon your wife so quickly just to follow Mr Holmes, then there is definitely no hope for either of you."

Watson simply smiled. "I fear you are right, Mrs Hudson. I could change, I suppose, but my friendship with Holmes...I know what he is like when I am not here, and while he *says* he has kicked the cocaine and morphine habit, I am more inclined to believe that when I can see with my own eyes that he is not indulging himself."

"I understand that all too well, Dr Watson, and that is my point. If you have decided to stay a confirmed bachelor, the chances of Mr Holmes marrying are quite remote."

"You want me to talk to him about Aggie again." It was most definitely a statement, not a question. "You want me to put the idea of Aggie and Tobias Fox as a couple to him."

"Without being quite so blunt, Doctor," Mrs Hudson chastised him.

Watson looked at her. "This is *Holmes* we're talking about, Mrs Hudson. Sometimes being so blunt is the only way to get through to him."

"True," she admitted, then smiled. "If there's nothing else, Doctor, I would very much like to retire for the evening."

"Of course. Good night, Mrs Hudson, and thank you," Watson said.

"Good night, John." And she was gone before he could reply, though his startled expression was still on his face when Holmes returned some fifteen minutes later.

"I say, Watson, is everything alright?" the detective asked.

Watson shook his head a little as if to clear the daze. "Yes. Yes, fine. Did you see your brother?"

Holmes laughed and fell into his chair. "I did indeed. He is now most upset with me."

"What's new?" he murmured, then louder, he said, "What have you done this time?"

"Told him to be here in the morning and I will explain all," Holmes replied.

"You've solved the case," Watson stated, not surprised.

"I have. And I am afraid you will have to wait until the morning as well, just like dear Mycroft." Holmes then stretched. "As for me, I'm off to bed, and I suggest you do the same, old man."

"Very well. Sleep well, Holmes."

"Good night, Watson."

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

The sitting room was rather crowded the next morning, with Watson and Holmes in their usual places, one eating breakfast and reading the newspaper, the other having his own breakfast; coffee and a cigarette. Aggie sat at the table with them, but only played with her food, and Mycroft lounged in one of the armchairs.

"How much longer do we have to wait for this grand explanation, Sherlock?" he asked grumpily.

Holmes just smiled. "All in good time, brother mine. Patience."

Mycroft's reply was interrupted by the bell at the front door. Holmes leaned forward slightly, and Watson knew that sign; whoever their visitor was, the detective was expecting them. Then came the sound of two sets of footsteps on the stairs, one being their landlady's.

"A gentleman to see you, Mr Holmes," Mrs Hudson said perfunctorily as she came into the room, handing him a note.

"Excellent, Mrs Hudson!" Holmes exclaimed. "Please, show him in."

The man who entered wasn't shabbily dressed, nor was he high society. He held his cap in his hands, nervously twirling it, and Watson caught a smell of horses. The man's eyes darted from person to person, finally settling on Holmes.

"You the man who placed the ad?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Indeed I am. And you are?"

"Mr Joseph Abbot."

"Do you have it?" Holmes asked.

From his pocket, Abbot produced a watch. "Ain't scratched or nothin'. I took good care of it."

"I am certain that you did." Holmes stood and walked over to the man, taking the watch and handing him an indiscernible amount of money in return, though judging by Abbot's shocked expression, and Watson's knowledge of his good friend, it was a kingly sum. "For you trouble, kind sir."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you very much," Abbot replied shakily.

Holmes opened the door and bellowed, "Mrs Hudson! Please show our guest out."

"Alright, Sherlock, precisely what is this all about?" Mycroft demanded to know.

But Holmes looked at him, a smile on his face. "Watson, would you care to hazard a guess at the explanation for this?"

Watson held his hands up. "Not this time, old man. Every time you ask that of me, I get it horribly wrong, and the exercise only serves to boost your ego and embarrass me." He then crossed his arms defiantly across his chest. "Not this time."

"Watson, you wound me," Holmes said, not looking the least little bit hurt. "Would it help if I said please?"

"You could say whatever you want, I'm not doing it."

"For Aggie."

Watson stared. "That was a low blow, Holmes, one I will not let you forget."

"My sincere apologies, my dear chap," Holmes said, his hand over his heart.

They stared at each other for a moment before Watson finally relented. "Alright, alright. Well, I would say that Mr Joseph Abbot is a cab driver, and that you placed an advertisement in one newspaper, or several, in order to find your missing watch. And since it was Mr Abbot who returned it, I would say he was the man who found it, more than likely on the floor of his hansom. How wrong am I?"

To everyone's great surprise, Holmes bowed low. "My dear Watson, you are absolutely correct. Bravo!"

TBC


	17. Four Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an extremely childish Watson (for a short while, anyway!) Just so you're warned.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

Everyone stared at Holmes, dumbstruck. Watson looked as though he had forgotten how to breathe, while Mycroft's expression clearly stated he was waiting to see if that was the punchline to a joke. Aggie seemed the least impressed of them all, her lips compressing into a thin line and her eyes narrowed.

"You have some explaining to do, Mr Holmes," she said, jabbing a finger at him.

Even Holmes, as inexperienced as he was in the machinations of the female mind, could read the danger signs, though he had no idea what could have caused them. "All in good time, my dear, but for now, let me assure you that my dear friend and colleague, Dr Watson, has indeed hit the nail on the head, as the saying goes."

"You mean...I was right?" Watson asked, flabbergasted.

Holmes nodded. "You were right, old man."

Watson stared in silence for a moment before a purely self-satisfied expression spread across his face. He sat back in his chair and re-crossed his arms, but this time it was in satisfaction. "Four words, Holmes."

"Which are?"

"I told you so. I told you so, I told you so, I told you so!"

Holmes' expression became pained. "How much longer is this ill-mannered, childish behaviour going to continue, Doctor?" he asked, ignoring the fact it had only just started.

Watson grinned smugly. "How long do you intend on living?"

"If he is like the other members of our family, Doctor, then a rather long time," Mycroft replied, attempting weakly to suppress a chuckle.

Aggie looked at Watson. "How did you know, Doctor?"

"To be honest, I didn't, but the night of the first party, I suggested to Holmes that his watch had simply fallen off, but he insisted on believing that Tobias Fox was the guilty party," Watson said, then froze in wild-eyed shock over what he had inadvertently just blurted out.

Holmes was stood behind Aggie making 'sshh-ing' motions, and Watson didn't pay attention, the detective changed his tactics and drew his finger across his throat in a singular deadly motion. The doctor took *that* hint immediately, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

"You *what*?" Aggie asked Holmes, turning to look at him, her voice raising at least an octave in that well-practised way that all women seemed to have mastered

Holmes immediately felt two inches high, and without thinking either, looked at Watson and said, "You see, *this* is why no sane man would ever get married!"

Mycroft buried his face in his hands while Watson closed his eyes and shook his head. Neither saw what happened next, but the slap reverberated around the room almost as much as the door slamming did. Silence reigned quite happily for while, broken quite suddenly by Holmes quiet voice.

"Mycroft."

The word was spoken with such feeling that both Mycroft and Watson felt immediately guilty, though what of, they couldn't quite say. "Yes, Sherlock?"

"Annul this marriage today or else..."

Mycroft held his hands up hurriedly. "Say no more, Sherlock, it shall be done this morning." And with surprising speed for a man his size, the elder Holmes brother exited their humble abode.

"Holmes, I...I'm sorry," Watson said.

The detective waved the words aside and sat down next to his friend. "No, it is I who should apologise, Watson. I thought that I could handle the situation. Thought that being married was no great task, but now I see that I am clearly not cut out for it and I never will be. Aggie deserves a much better man than I. I will not lie to you, Watson, I am fond of her, and she has touched my heart in a way no other ever has...save you, my dear chap."

"Holmes, I..."

"Please, do not say anything lest we burst into tears like a pair of newly born babes."

Watson smiled. "I was simply going to ask if you would share your conclusions with me."

Holmes smiled back and lit a cigarette. "You know that of the two items missing from myself and Aggie's person, both have been recovered and the explanations of their disappearance simple. If you have a look at this watch, you will find the strap is loose, allowing it to open and slide quite easily off someone's wrist. The same is true of Aggie's pearl necklace; the clasp was faulty."

"Sound thinking, Holmes, but what about last night?" Watson asked. "What did you pick up from the party?"

The detective dug into his pocket and held his hand out. "This."

"A cuff link, and an expensive one, from the looks of it. But why steal...?"

Holmes shook his head a mite impatiently. "That is where I made my first and most fatal assumption of this case; I believed the newspapers. I would be willing to bet ten ounces of finest shag tobacco against five of your favourite cigars that if we spoke to the people who professed to having been robbed, we would find that their items had mysteriously reappeared, more than likely in their own homes or perhaps their pockets."

"And the items not recovered?" Watson asked.

"Lost in the street quite easily. Dropped at a party, swept up and taken by the cleaning staff, or simply thrown away." Holmes shook his head. "No, Watson, there has not been a series of thefts, merely a bout of ill luck concerning valuables."

Watson suddenly chuckled. "Good luck explaining that one to Lestrade, old chap."

Holmes smiled again. "I think I shall let Scotland Yard's finest know that this case is too much for me to deal with."

"Just make sure they don't hang an innocent man."

The inference wasn't lost on the detective and he sighed. "You mean Fox."

Watson simply nodded. "Indeed I do, sir."

"Watson, simply say what is on your mind instead of fencing."

"Aggie is fond of him, but she had hoped you might change as she still held a special place in her heart for Escott. Now, however, she sees that will not happen and I believe she would like to let Fox know she is...available, shall we say?" The doctor lit up a cigarette. "But as she is married to you, she will continue in that role until you no longer need her."

The shilling that dropped in Holmes' head made a rather loud 'clang'. "Is that why Aggie was upset with me? Because she thought I had been...using her?"

"Well, you rather have, old man," Watson pointed out. "But I know what you mean. And yes, that is why she is upset. Aggie feels that if the case was so easy to solve, why did you ask her to assist you in the first place unless it was to cause her more pain?"

"I would never..."

"I know," Watson said, holding a hand up. "But you know what they say, Holmes. Once burned, twice shied. You did a cruel thing to Aggie..."

"As you like to remind me," Holmes groused.

"...And she still hasn't recovered from it. You need to go to her and tell her everything about the case, about why you wanted her to help you, and then give her your permission to seek out Fox's company as a free woman."

"You are assuming that I...," Holmes started to say.

"Holmes, you said yourself that no sane man would ever get married," Watson interrupted. "Please, do not insult my intelligence by saying you wished to attempt such a feat because, well, I'm sorry, old man, but I wouldn't believe you."

The detective merely shrugged. "You are entirely correct, my friend. I thought that I could change, but now I see I cannot, and nor do I particularly want to. As long as I have my trusted Boswell, I am content with my life."

"I'll be around forever, Holmes."

"Forever is a long time," Holmes pointed out. "But I will take 'as long as possible'."

Watson smiled. "Aggie was also upset with you because you suspected Fox as being the culprit as she is fond of him," he added.

"Yes, I had worked that part out for myself, thank you." Holmes stared out of the window, lost in thought, until he felt Watson's gaze boring into him. "What?"

"Four words, Holmes."

"Watson..."

"You. Aggie. Talk. Now."

Holmes stabbed his cigarette out and stood. "In all honesty, Watson, who needs a wife when I have you and Mrs Hudson?" He was gone from the room before the doctor could find something suitable to throw at him.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

It was some time later when Holmes returned from his sojourn downstairs, and the only news Watson had was that it had been raining for five solid hours, ever since the detective had left the sitting room in fact, and that Mycroft had sent a telegram.

"The marriage has been annulled," the doctor said. "Aggie is once again Miss Agnes Morton."

"That shall please her," Holmes replied distantly, sitting at his desk near the window, his back to Watson.

"What happened?" the doctor asked quietly.

"I talked, Aggie shouted, she slapped me again, she cried," Holmes started. "I talked some more, she listened, then she talked and I listened." He turned and smiled ruefully. "I think I preferred being shouted at."

"The truth hurts, old man," Watson said sympathetically.

"Indeed it does." He turned away. "I never realised how much I had hurt her, Watson, and before undertaking this foolish case, I did not particularly care, not enough to want to make amends at any rate. But now..."

"Love, in all its forms, changes people, Holmes. Even you are not immune to its power and while it hurts now, you will be a better person for it in the end."

"Perhaps."

Watson knew when he wasn't wanted. His friend needed some time alone, and the doctor understood that need perfectly. "I think I'll retire to my room for a while, Holmes." The detective just nodded. "Were you planning on visiting Fox at some point?"

"I had not thought about it. Ask me later, or even tomorrow."

"Very well." Watson stood, hesitating for a moment. "Four words, Holmes."

"Not now, Watson," Holmes snapped.

But the doctor walked up to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, waiting until the detective turned before speaking. "I'm proud of you."

TBC


	18. Tall Tale

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

The next morning, Holmes was already sat at the breakfast table when Watson came downstairs, and the detective seemed in much better spirits. "Ah, good morning, Watson. Coffee or tea?"

"Tea today, please," the doctor replied, looking closely at his friend.

"I can assure you, old man, that I am in a much better frame of mind than I was yesterday," Holmes said without looking up.

Watson smiled. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I do have a small favour to ask, Watson. Are you busy today?"

"Only as busy as I am every other day," he replied. "Why? What is it you need of me?"

Holmes stood. "Accompany me on a visit to Mr Tobias Fox. I think it is time for the truth to come out."

"Now?" Watson asked, surprised.

"No, dear fellow, eat your breakfast. I must speak with Aggie and then I will tell you when we shall be departing."

As Holmes bounded from the room, Watson shook his head and opened the newspaper, reading as he drank his tea and devoured his eggs and bacon. The detective was remarkably resilient, even with affairs of the heart. It only remained to be seen whether Aggie was as tough or not. Privately, Watson thought she might be, especially if she had the courage to slap Holmes and berate him thoroughly in, presumably, the company of Mrs Hudson.

To the doctor's great surprise, Aggie came back up with Holmes and joined them for breakfast. "Good morning, Dr Watson," she said with a sunny smile.

"Good morning, my dear, and how are you?"

"Oh, just fine, thank you. And yourself?"

"As well as I usually am," Watson replied, smiling.

Holmes poured himself some coffee, lit a cigarette and sat back in his chair. "Now then, my plan regarding Mr Fox requires the presence of both of you, should you choose to accompany me."

"Of course," Aggie said.

Watson nodded. "Certainly, old chap."

"Excellent! I feel we shall also need you medical bag, Doctor, preferably empty."

"I shall fetch it after breakfast," Watson replied, not even bothering to ask why it needed to be empty, or even why Holmes wanted it in the first place.

"Marvellous! Then we can start shortly, say, in half an hour?" Holmes suggested after glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece.

"Fine by me, old man," Watson said.

"I may need a little longer, Mr Holmes," Aggie replied quietly.

Holmes just smiled. "Then we shall wait on you, my dear."

Aggie nodded and stood, but before she left the room, she looked at Holmes. "Will this work? I mean, will...?"

The detective held his hand up. "If he does not, then I shall take him outside and give him a good thrashing, and Watson will help me, won't you, Watson?"

"If the cause is just, certainly!" the doctor replied, having no clue who they were supposedly thrashing or why. Aggie blushed, nodded again, and left the room. Watson looked at Holmes and opened his mouth.

"I spoke with Aggie this morning, smoothed out all the...wrinkles from yesterday," the detective explained before Watson could speak. "And took your advice. She is coming with us to Fox Manor to see if Fox is indeed as besotted with her as you think she is. If that is the case, then I am happy for her. He will be able to give her what I know I cannot. If he is not..."

"Ah." Watson nodded, smiling knowingly, everything making sense now. "She's making herself presentable. That could take some time."

"Indeed."

Watson looked carefully at his friend. "And you are truly happy with this turn of events?"

Holmes nodded solemnly. "Truly, I am."

"Then I shall take your word that you are alright." The doctor retreated behind his newspaper to finish his breakfast in companionable silence.

"And if I am not, I shall call upon you to aid me, my dear friend," Holmes added quietly. Watson heard but didn't reply, but then again, he didn't need to. Words weren't always needed between the two of them, and if the doctor had really wanted to communicate, he could have simply used smoke signals, especially from the way they were both puffing on their cigarettes.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

The carriage ride to Fox Manor was spent in silence, but an amiable one. Aggie sat with a serene expression on her face, her hands folded demurely in her lap, and Watson would have given almost anything in that moment to know what Holmes had said to her to bring about such a change. However, he knew if he asked his friend what had transpired, the detective wouldn't answer him. 'The journey is not as important as the conclusion', he would probably say, so Watson simply left the issue alone.

When they arrived at the manor, Holmes went about giving them their instructions. "Now, I shall knock on the door and announce myself. Aggie, you stand to my left. That way Fox will not see you first. And Watson, you stand on the right. If Fox sees you before myself, which is highly unlikely, just point his attention in my direction. Stand a little way behind me. Yes, that's it. Good. Are we all ready?" They both nodded. "Aggie, my dear, try not to say anything until I have explain all to Mr Fox."

"Yes, Mr Holmes," she said obediently.

"Then let us begin."

As Holmes rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer the call, Watson found himself thinking that it made for a pleasant change, not having to take his revolver at all, or his cane for the sole reason of clobbering someone around the head with. He had it with him, of course, but that was so he could lean on it if necessary, not so he could trip someone up if needed.

A tall, thin butler answered the door, and Watson almost laughed at the stereotypical image. "May I help you?"

"We are here to see Mr Tobias Fox," Holmes replied, his tone indicating that he really wanted to say 'why else would we be here, you dolt?'

"Do you have an appointment?" the butler asked.

"No." Holmes produced a card and handed it to him. "Just tell him Mr Sherlock Holmes wishes to see him urgently."

The butler raised one eyebrow a fraction and he looked at the card. "Please come in. Wait here." And he bustled off.

"How do butlers always make you feel like you're a criminal?" Watson mused.

"Watson, please," Holmes admonished him.

The doctor looked surprised. "Did I say that out loud?"

Aggie giggled and when she turned away to look at something, Holmes shot his friend a grateful glance. He, too, had seen Aggie start to become agitated as she entered the mansion, and understandably so. Their meeting with Fox could change her life forever, and Watson rather hoped it would.

"Mr Holmes, what a pleasure to meet you," Fox said as he walked towards them, appearing from a side passage.

"My apologies for simply calling on you in such a fashion without giving you prior warning, but this could not wait," Holmes replied, stepping forward to shake hands with him.

"I must say, I am surprised by this visit. To what do...?" Fox suddenly trailed off as his eyes drifted to the left of Holmes. "Lady Brentwood?" Then he noticed Watson. "Dr Anstow? What has happened? Is Lord Brentwood alright?"

"Perhaps there is somewhere we can sit down," Holmes said smoothly.

Fox blinked several times. "Of course. Forgive me, where are my manners? Please, follow me." He led them to a spacious sitting room and ordered tea to be brought. "Now, what is this all about?"

"I would ask that you bear with me until the end, if possible," Holmes said. Watson knew damn well that it wouldn't be possible for Fox to remain quiet; the doctor had been the detective's friend for quite some time and he *still* found it difficult.

"Very well. I am, as they say, all ears," Fox replied.

"As you are no doubt aware, there have been a series of jewellery thefts across London over the past few weeks. Although I was not asked to investigate directly, I took it upon myself to look into the case as it seems Scotland Yard is at a complete loss."

"As usual," Watson added.

Holmes smiled. "Yes. As usual. The party you hosted three nights ago seemed to be the perfect opportunity to try and find some clues, but first, I needed to become someone else in order to attend the party without being recognised."

Fox suddenly went pale. "Oh my God," he said quietly. "You..." Then he looked at Aggie as though seeing her for the first time. "And you..." He trailed off.

"Indeed, you have reached the correct conclusion," Holmes continued. "Lord Brentwood provided the perfect cover for me, but first I needed a wife, and this charming young lady, who is an acquaintance of mine from a previous case, agreed to help me."

Fox suddenly looked at Watson. "You're Dr Watson, aren't you? Mr Holmes' companion on most of his cases."

"Indeed I am, sir."

"Anstow...Watson...how could I not see that?" Fox shook his head.

"See, Holmes, I told you it was an adequate disguise," Watson said smugly.

Holmes ignored him. "It was a necessary deception, I am afraid."

"So you are not really married?" Fox asked, looking between Holmes and Aggie.

"No, we are not," Holmes replied, glad that it was a truthful answer.

"And *your* wife?" the young man inquired, looking at Watson. "Is she...?"

"Our landlady," Watson replied.

Fox looked surprised. "Your wife is your landlady? How...quaint."

"No, our landlady posed as his wife, you dolt." Holmes shook his head in exasperation. "Now, is there anything else you wish to know?"

"Did you catch the thieves?"

"There are no thieves, at least none that are worth catching," Holmes explained. "I lost a watch, which turned up in a hansom. The watch slipped off because it was faulty, the same of which can be said for the pearl necklace that Aggie also 'lost'. That I found on the floor of your ballroom two days ago."

Fox frowned. "Aggie?"

"Miss Agnes Morton," Watson replied, smiling and nodding towards Aggie.

"Ah."

"The other items people have thought stolen have most likely turned up by now. In fact, the only thing I noticed went missing when I was at the party two nights ago was a cuff link."

"A cuff link?" Fox asked.

Holmes nodded. "But I think you are better equipped to explain that particular little mystery, sir, are you not?"

Fox flushed at Holmes' words and hung his head. "You are right, Mr Holmes, but I cannot, for I am both embarrassed and ashamed."

Surprisingly, the detective put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It is nothing to worry about, Mr Fox. You are amongst friends here." He turned to Aggie and Watson. "The cuff link came off by accident. I believe that Mr Fox shook his guest's hand a little too enthusiastically."

Watson was frowning. "But I don't see..."

"He's clumsy," Aggie stated, looking at Fox. "That's alright, I am too sometimes."

"Everyone is, my dear," Holmes replied. "You should see Watson on occasion. A foal on ice has more grace."

"You are not completely infallible either, Holmes," Watson reminded his friend, who just smiled easily and shrugged.

"I never said that I was."

"At least not this week," Watson muttered quietly.

The detective heard but ignored him. "*Now* is there anything else you wish to know?"

Fox shook his head. "All in all, that is indeed a tall tale, Mr Holmes," he said with a smile.

Holmes nodded. "The truth usually is the most difficult thing to believe."

TBC


	19. Endings and Beginnings

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

"And now," Holmes said, "We have one last order of business to attend to."

Fox looked surprised. "One more thing?"

The detective nodded, but Watson frowned. "Actually, Holmes, it is two."

"Two?" The doctor nodded. "I know of one, of course, but the second?"

Watson smiled. "Is this something that Sherlock Holmes cannot deduce?"

"Please, do not be showing everyone my faults."

"I think we already know them, Mr Holmes," Aggie said with a smile.

Holmes clasp his hand over his heart in an overly dramatical way. "Oh, you wound me, fair maiden!"

"I don't wish to interrupt," Fox said.

"Then don't," Holmes muttered.

"But the items of business to conclude? As I do have a rather busy schedule today.

Holmes looked at Watson and shook his head. "The impetuousness of youth, eh, Watson?"

The doctor nodded and sighed. "I do so miss it."

"Very well! The first item is the one my good friend Dr Watson brought up, and that was why he brought his medical bag if we did not actually use it. Well, the answer is very simple. It contains the make-up I used to transform myself into Lord Charles Brentwood," Holmes explained. "If you, Mr Fox, needed convincing of the story, I would make myself up as Lord Brentwood before your eyes, and take the make-up off in the same manner. But as you guessed the truth straight away, there was no need."

Fox's eyes had gone wide. "Can you actually do that? I mean, you were so convincing as Lord Brentwood."

"I would gladly oblige you, Mr Fox, but as you have already said, you are rather busy, and so are we. Perhaps...another time."

"Very well. And the last piece of business?"

"You must forgive my bluntness, but it is usually Watson here who plays the role of matchmaker," Holmes said.

"I most certainly do not!" Watson protested.

Holmes silenced him with a raised eyebrow. "Now, I would ask you, Mr Fox, what your intentions are towards Aggie."

"My...my...intentions?" Fox spluttered. "I-I don't have any! Well, what I mean is, I thought she was your wife..."

"If we do this your way, Mr Holmes, we'll be here forever," Aggie said, rolling her eyes. "Mr Fox, forgive me, but I'm a servant and plain-speaking to boot. The other day, when we were here, I asked if you had ever come close to marrying. You said that only one woman had ever caught your interest, but she belonged to another. Who were you talking about?"

"You," Fox replied after a long pause.

"Good. And now you know I don't belong to another, what are you going to do about it?"

Fox stared, his jaw hanging down a little. "I...well...I..." He suddenly laughed. "You are unlike any other woman I have ever met! And I would like very much to get to know you better."

Aggie blushed and stared at the floor. "But I'm a servant. I have to go back to work soon."

"No, that will never do." Fox patted his pockets down. "I do not have a ring, but what if we were to be married?"

"Don't joke about things like that!" she said in a panic.

Both Holmes and Watson tried not to laugh, knowing full well the cause of her distress. But Fox smiled and took her hands. "Believe me, my dear, I would never joke about such an important thing. I have waited so long for a lady to come along whom I was attracted to and could see myself being married to. Who I could look after and who would look after me. Who could make me laugh and see me cry without judging me. And who I could spend many long nights talking with, staying up until the sun rises. Never has a woman fit all of those categories...until you."

"If that's the case, Mr Fox, then marriage would be a welcome proposition," Aggie replied.

Fox took her hand and laughed again. "That definitely will not do. My name is Tobias. Please get used to using it."

Aggie smiled back. "What about Toby?"

Fox blinked. "No one has called me that for years. It was my mother's nickname for me. She died when I was young." His eyes misted up. "Yes, I think Toby will suffice as well."

"Well, I believe our work here is done," Holmes said, clearly eager to be away. "I wish the both of you the best of luck. Come, Watson!"

"Mr Holmes, wait!" Fox called, as Holmes had strode off in the direction of the front door, Watson struggling to keep up with him.

The detective stopped but didn't turn. "Look at the man, Holmes," Watson urged him quietly. "And for God's sake, man, say goodbye to Aggie!"

"Mr Holmes, I wish...I wish to thank you, for a great many things," Fox said when he reached them. "I realise that if you had not solved this case, the police would have turned on me eventually. I hold the most parties, which meant the most jewellery would have gone missing here. It would not have been too big a leap for them to assume I was the theft."

"I can assure you that will never occur now," Holmes replied.

Fox nodded. "I know, and I thank you. Also I wish to thank you for bringing Aggie into my life. I can already feel my burdens lightening in her presence."

"She has a habit of melting even the hardest of hearts." Holmes smiled.

"And lastly, I want to thank you for taming Bane. In two days, he is like a different horse. The change is almost miraculous." Fox's expression suddenly changed. "Mr Holmes, I would like to offer Bane to you as a gift. Please, do not insult me by refusing."

"That will please Mrs Hudson," Watson said quietly.

Holmes glared at him. "I would not wish to insult you, Mr Fox, but I am afraid our landlady would have an apoplexy if I took a horse home," he replied.

"It may make a welcome change," Watson noted.

Holmes glared at him once again, but the glares seemed to be having little effect for some reason. "I do, however, have a compromise, if you are willing to listen?"

Fox nodded. "Go on."

"Keep the horse here and I will visit regularly. In fact, it will give me an excuse to come here...something I feel that...I would very much like to do." Holmes locked eyes with Aggie, who smiled at him.

Fox saw the exchange, but it didn't bother him. He could see that Holmes and Aggie had a special bond, and he wasn't about to act up all jealous because of it. Holmes had his chance with Aggie and instead he stood aside for Fox; the younger man could see that and could not help but wonder why, though he knew he would never know the answer.

"And now, we shall take out leave," Holmes said.

Fox held his hand out. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr Holmes, and you, Dr Watson." They shook hands. "I hope to see you both again soon."

"I think there is a good chance of that," Holmes replied.

"Goodbye, my dear," Watson said, bowing to Aggie.

She smiled and hugged him. "Goodbye, Dr Watson. Look after him for me."

"I always do."

Holmes then stepped up to Aggie and took her hand. "Be happy, Agnes."

"And you, Mr Holmes."

He bowed and kissed the back of her hand, then deliberately relinquished it to Fox. Then Holmes and Watson turned and headed down the drive, while Fox and Aggie went back into the house. Watson waited for a while before judging it safe to speak, but before he could speak, they heard a cry.

"Mr Holmes!"

Both turned to see Aggie running towards them. "Brace yourself, old man," Watson warned his friend, having correctly interpreted the look on the young woman's face.

"What do you...? Ooomph!" Holmes exclaimed as Aggie reached him and threw her arms rather forcibly around his neck.

"Thank you for everything, Mr Holmes," she said as she pulled back. "I finally forgive you, and I would like to see you again. And Dr Watson, of course."

"Then we shall definitely come and visit," the detective replied. "I promise."

Aggie nodded. "You do that." She stood on her tiptoes and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye...my detective." She looked at Watson. "Please give my best to Mrs Hudson, and bring her with you some time, if you can."

Watson smiled. "We will most certainly try."

"Bye!" She disengaged herself from Holmes and ran back towards the house, stopping and waving before going in through the front door.

"Remarkable woman," Watson stated as they started to walk again.

Holmes lifted his hand to his cheek and touched the spot where she had kissed him. "Indeed. Remarkable."

"Any regrets, old man?"

Holmes smiled. "Everything worked out in the end, Watson. That is what matters."

"That doesn't answer my question," Watson told him.

"It was not meant to but I can see you are going to be relentless about this." Holmes stared ahead. "Regrets? Not particularly. Well, only one of consequence."

"Which is?" Watson asked.

Holmes was silent for a moment. "That you declined to be my wife in the first place. I would have found it amusing had Fox been attracted to you instead. Could you imagine trying to explain *that*? I think the moustache would have given the game away, though...!"

There was another brief silence and then, "Holmes!"

FIN


End file.
